Glass IIhe is motionless when he sees her tilting her head back mouth wide with laughter surrounded by sparkling shards of something he knows will save himGlass II
her laughter halts as she notices him her eyes are sharp now and she watches him through the tangled strands of her hair daring him to step closer
at his feet is the broken glass and his cautious glances to her to her secrets are vyying for her permission to let him in
why shouldn't i?
he asks himself while using his foot to turn a shard and peer into its glimmeri
She Will Do These ThingsSometimes the best partShe Will Do These Things
of waking up is knowing that you're still alive.
The lack of warmth greets your sleepy toes and you pull an old hand-me-down sweater over your shoulders. A warm cup of tea or cocoa heats your palms as you sit quietly at the kitchen table watching the fog drift eerily past your window.
the holidays are here and all you can think of
are the tiny pockets of pie crust dough you used to make with your grandmother. She called them grasshoppers and she sprinkled cinnamon inside th
GlassCarefully she peels back the petal-soft sheet and peeks into what she realizes will be what saves herGlass
Why shouldn't I? she asks herself while fingering the milky strand of pearls around her neck
She reaches in with delicate fingers and submerges her hand into a million tiny stones seeping warmth into each one
Gazing into herself she sees what she has not seen before: the simplicity of
uncountable atoms
And she laughs
as she finds the largest stone and smashes in the secre
Darkness on Canyon Crest In the cold darkness of the night she took shelter under her electric blanket, burying her head deeper and deeper into her pillow. Below her she heard the voices of her parents: the hysterical cries of her mother, and the demanding, powerful tones of her father. There was something foreign in her father's veins, and her mother knew it. It was like this almost every night. She was forced to try to block out the fights that echoed up the dark stairwell, until her mother finally came to silence her teary sobs. The voices fell dead abruptly, and she heard the familiar creaking fooDarkness on Canyon Crest
a narrow river from the seait seems to me that the human vocabulary has become very smalla narrow river from the sea
kill/kiss cry/laugh destroy/build
but what about the soft drum roll of the surf as it snares itself upon the sand and stirringly signals the arrival of the ocean’s volume to the down-turned ear calling to its attention a tenuous balance between trembling elements?
i think we have become lazy accepting only thoughts that have labels that are easy to recognize
hate/love sorrow/joy war/peace
but what about the blo
bloomable.
qué tal van tus progresos con el español?
besos
I really do appreciate the support you've given me
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We are a new club and we would like to extend to you an invitation!
Come check us out!
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~Pagan And Proud
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_//LEMONTEA||MORE.ADDICTIVE.THAN.HEROIN_+''
Keep up the good work.
M-
thank you so much for the
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