I read too many books.
Stories of broken, billowing, stormcloud love,
the passion that comes with hard edges,
the darkness
with small breakthroughs of light.
I mistakenly wish for that passion.
The fragments of girlhood within me long for the drama of tormented love.
Sometimes I need to...
The faded moon is a patch sewn into the pale fabric of the sky.
And I take solace in the old cliché
That I can look at the same moon
As you.
As if the sky is a well-worn blanket that is wide enough to wrap around both of our shoulders.
It stretches just far enough
To bring me closer
To...
I would be stretched almost to popping point
with words
and ideas
and music
(sonatinas, African drums, orchestras climbing to climaxes)
and color
and Italian food
and friendship
and all the best movie lines
and raindrops
and a heart like a cup overflowing
and languages like foreign spic...
is knowing that I am one of those
blinking lights in the sky,
and somewhere a child is looking up
wondering
why some stars have colors like Christmas lights
and move through the sky like dragonflies
trailing antennae through
reflecting pools....
“Risha, please, what’s wrong?”
Everything. Everything that I am about to do.
Risha did not pause in her purposeful walk, nor did she answer his question. Her silence forced him to follow her all the way to the edge of the deserted village, where she stopped and faced him.
Forcing her ...
It's one of those rare warm winter days
When the sun keeps the clouds at bay for a while
And it melts away your January skin
And the cool breeze counters the heat
And the music is mellow and lazy in the thick air
And the cider is carbonated gold on your tongue
And the smell of sunscreen mak...
88 keys in my two hands
And cold metal on the ground
A night-black wall before my eyes
Music, music all around.
Crystals tinkling in soft midair
Rivers running dark and deep
The flow of wind across my skin
My choice, to give or to keep.
A radiant light from sky above
Reflecting the ocea...
The gypsy wagon jerks unexpectedly to a stop. I try to hide my relief that the uncomfortable journey is finally at an end. The others gleefully jump out of the wagon, their whoops and screams echoing hauntingly throughout the wilderness. I clamber out of the wagon as well, pausing on the top of the ...
The logs are burning, but the fire's cold
The sun is out, but the day is old.
The leaves are moving, but the air is still
The plant is green, but the life's been killed.
The eyes are eager, but the thoughts are scared
The voice is dull, but the memory cared.
The cup's half full, but the ...
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