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A slow breaking and mending
of blood and bone
fit for the poorest
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Pour tomber, pour courir,
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Mademoiselle
No one, to you,
do tell.
A dream,
perhaps a nightmare,
that died in your arms
much too long ago.


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Tuesday, November 20, 2007
You keep lockers safe
Coffee beans and rainbows; it's all too cliche, but I think of you and everything changes. I'm sugar high on an empty stomach, I don't know why but something says it's okay to feel this way. Rhyming's been an automatic option in my head but I'd really rather not make any sense instead.

Maybe this should've hit harder than one sleepless night, but I'm hoping I can cut the drama and just say it's alright. There's something about..*no, let's not succumb to these words just yet.

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