I ache every time the sun sets I curl around the softness of my pillow It fails to be even slightly adequate a replacement For the softness of your body
There exists this strange dichotomy between living in a world that tells you: live your passion; be brave!; don’t hold back; be open and honest; the heart wants what the heart wants; just do it (just do it) justdoitjustdoitjustdoit– And then, in the next breath, you are punished for that.
I don’t know where she came from I blinked one day And there she was Devil on my shoulder Angel in a dress
I want to open my hands and release all of the threads — to feel cool, new air on my palms, the caress of it on my lifelines, this whisper of unburdened hope.
I walked through the snow tonight, two, nearly three, miles, basking in the gentle eddies of the fading storm, the soft quiet of a winter wonderland spread before me like a bounteous gift.
I like women who are all soft corners. Tricky, you know, pretending to be made up of edges but really full of fluff and heart and all the things that make little girls nice and grown women sexy.
There is nothing like the falling of snow in my city. It hushes the earth, softly, this warm silence which reminds me of the magic of childhood. The brush of snowflakes; the whistling whisper of the wind — hot cocoa and marshmallows and wool-socked feet sliding across wood floors and porcelain tile — cardigans and … Continue reading
I remember kissing your lips and tasting something infinitely holy as much as it sealed me most physically to this earth, to this bed, to you.
I like how my city looks through your eyes: Bright and exciting Shiny buildings, shiny spires
Run. Run like your life depends on it.