Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Growing dizzy every time he climbs a ladder, crying over his old poems. I walk out into the garden and there he is, watering the lilies and studying the digitalis. He is talking to his own invisible heart; he is leaking blood. The sun shines on him all day long as he wonders from bush to bush. His... Sign in to see full entry.
Find love is a treacherous thing to do.
Before taking on the personality of a moth, I was seduced into waiting like every other woman for her man in the garden of true love, a dark place I cannot walk away from, a madness has taken over, through weeping lids half of me was cursing you, while a female willow trembled knowingly, when she... Sign in to see full entry.