December 2009
3 posts
Giving breath to what was compressed
Fall is a transition into brisk air: summer stole from me a love impaired. With it’s threshold strength, and lack of merrit; the days grow shorter, as the memories loose luster. How can you let go of something you never had; forget about something that you longed for, but couldn’t fully grasp? Dirt consolidates whats left of you under the dreck, it solitifys that my time with you is...
“Sometimes, when the wind blows and catches my hair I feel the touch of his hand upon my cheek. Then I will smell the aroma of burning clove; burning like we had that summer unforgotten. Shortly following, my senses become overwhelmed and my mind runs away with the thoughts of yesteryear. I visualize the still shots and short scenes of a younger I, enthralled in the vanity created with...