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It isn’t enough to speak the words
To breathe the soft tones of my life
Into the fragile winces of your fingers
My cheeks are stalactites to be
And our once soaring butterfly
Nothing more than an architectural relic
Frozen in the datolite of a cave to be
This is heart wrenchingly beautiful. I am always thrown by the beauty that comes from such sorrow. It seems almost morbid to say how eloquent and breathtakingly beautiful ones broken soul's cries are. Yet, all the classics are either bound to one or broken from another.
You have done that here, placed pain and anguish on the page.
|| Posted on 2014-05-22 00:00:00 | by clay | [ Reply to This ] || marc,|
yeah buddy that's not good man. let time do it's thing(even that thing where it seems like time does nothing) but you're usually the rationalizing type. i wouldn't let something take you down or keep you caved forever.
|| Posted on 2011-11-03 00:00:00 | by cornonthekob | [ Reply to This ] || This to me is elegant in it's delivery yet appears to be layered, as if a pain is inherent in all expressed yet it is much greater than it is perceived to be initially. It is as if some form of dignity is retained through the way this is delivered yet the pain is major upon closer inspection, I enjoyed it.||| Posted on 2011-10-29 00:00:00 | by Clayman | [ Reply to This ] |