[29 May 2006|04:43pm] it's times like this when i want to rip her open gently with love and cradle that little heart in my bare hands. she, in my mind, lies with her smooth back pressed against the tichy carpet and lets her tears trail with gravity and exhaustion down the sides of her face to the floor. i'd catch them if i were there, i'd save her sorrow in little glass bottles and later we'd go out into the thinning summer air and smash them in the street, laughing that sadness is not worthy of her but it buries within us both, ticking like a timbomb. sometimes i worry that she is so similar to me, i pray to my ceiling that she doesn't sleep with the windows open in the winter, hoping for a cold. comment

[28 Feb 2006|08:22pm] test. comment

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