My goal is to spend as many days under the sun surrounded by music, people, food and books. Some wine too.
I. Hate. That you made me choose.
I feel like an oil painting that never dries. My colors are changing or they are bleeding from one to the next. Sometimes taking shape, sometimes looking like noise. The salt water keeps everything wet. Sometimes, I think… that says more than the words I can find to describe it.
I’ll meet you where the stars kiss the end of time.
I grasp at them like straws sometimes. And try to shove them in a proverbial glass bottle. It’s hard, they don’t all fit. I get frustrated. They cut me. Then I either want to throw the bottle behind me or smash it altogether…
I’m surprised … how silent the wave is until it crashes upon me. Sometimes, you come in waves.