usually, she sits.
& you come up behind me, loving each and every detail of the neck you've grown to know. breathing salty i love you's. i've been on the road for quite sometime, and i left the home i thought i'd settle into without notice or explanation, to come hold your hand as you drag me down city streets. in and out of shops we don't intend to buy anything in, gulping coffee drinks (or beer) and grubbing for sandwiches. only a couple more months until we will be on foot across the country with nothing but a few hundred dollars and infinite love.
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Unfiltered, immature (but maturing) rants, poetry and (current) findings of the first leaf in my adult years: These are mainly stripped of my independent "self". They are projections of myself in the relationships with men, women, art and the earth that I created in an attempt to free myself from isolation, childhood terrors and hurt. I've created a new blog for present/future - much more art - individualized pain - and everyday questionings. #likehoneyburning.blogspot
No comments:
Post a Comment