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Absence falters, squeezes on a warm, autumnal evening. You describe potential as a concrete flower in this city. I disagree, and search for a hybrid mercy Lost in words and notes and a sense of previous anger welling up from years of cold repression, a finality to all of this: Sunrise is for the tainted yet holy. Grace and desire are fickle partners where I am worlds apart from either kind. Speak of brilliance found only in an opal, all five senses attuned within a galaxy of broken bones, the old-woman smile I find in dusty novels that I read when all else comes unravelled. |
The towards the opening especially- my words! The cold repression and the welling; the absence that squeezes your heart. Grace and discontent seems equality inadequate now, but won't give up on desire. It's your desire that you find speaking everywhere now, in novels, in music, and (in my case) in your writing.| Posted on 2014-08-07 00:00:00 | by Snow9 | [ Reply to This ] | |