It whispered in underneath the floorboards in such a way that by the time I realized it was here the tendrils had coiled about my legs and it had become a shawl about my shoulders warming me and promising and I began to wither disappear into the ever leaving only my shell to tell the tale.
The gulls amassed in a discordant drown when watching the woman walk on water
She looked back at her sandy shoreline of cotton candy madness and musicians who were bartenders who were eye candy for the blind
The numbers were as infinite as the columns of the Parthenon she would count them until she reached the south where the accident occurred and never let her feet touch the special interchange of columns left standing by the robotics of the old world
but she could never outrun the drowning of the gulls.
Well, hello there all of you new lovies! Welcome and thank you for following me. I must warn you, I am quite sporadic in my postings lately but I promise to make it worth your while if you stick around.
I am deeply humbled by the feature, dear editors. THANK YOU! ♡♥♡
“I am not a poet because of some
or delicate tremors and
palpitations of the heart.
I am a poet because I learned,
to take the knife to the parts
I knew would hurt the most
and only fall to my knees
as a way to keep the earth close.”—by Ashe Vernon (via latenightcornerstore)
“Now Suzanne takes your hand
And she leads you to the river
She is wearing rags and feathers
From Salvation Army counters
And the sun pours down like honey
On our lady of the harbor
And she shows you where to look
Among the garbage and the flowers
There are heroes in the seaweed
There are children in the morning
They are leaning out for love
And they will lean that way forever
While Suzanne holds the mirror
And you want to travel with her
And you want to travel blind
And you know that you can trust her
For she’s touched your perfect body with her mind.”—Leonard Cohen (via nickdrake)
Nobody goes through grief in the same way. This thought occurred to her as she sat in the empty room.
She had seen other people lose their parents, siblings, spouses, friends, family. She had seen the devastation these things wrought upon their soul.
As for her, she was still numb.
She had gone through the funeral planning process and the funeral in a daze. She had hazily sat for the will reading. She took the hugs, the gifts, the offerings from the sad faces with the appropriate amount of grace and humility.
And now, she was here. Clearing out the house and cleaning up the last bits of his life.
She opened a box and began to sort through it. Bills, letters, and various bits of a life once lived that was now at the end.
And then, she came across a photograph. It was just a simple thing, a photo in a frame of her and him when she was just a little girl. She had bows in her hair and was looking up at him with a look that was full of love and happiness. He was looking down at her with the same.
And suddenly, despair washed over her in a wave that knocked her breathless. She let out a howl from the depths of her soul and slung the picture across the room.
It smashed against the fireplace with a most satisfactory crash.
And then, she was up and ripping open boxes and throwing the contents all around. She had to hear that crashing, smashing again. She dumped boxes, she ripped open closets, and all the while, she was screaming like she had never heard herself scream before. She had to destroy these things.
She must destroy all of these things.
She smashed and crashed and screamed, and she didn’t grieve for any of it at all.
And when she was done, she finally let herself cry.