All the beauty you'll never have
was never yours to mourn
All the lips you'll never kiss
were never yours to taste
loosen your grasp
free it completely
let your palm feel wind
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
It's always getting late.
When I am not writing this is what I do.
"In the present we are always in memory." - Trish Keenan
It's always getting late.
Introduction
This blog is a virtual notebook of writing that I maintain as often as I can. Poems, stray lines, random observations, all co-exist here. Revisions occur as needed/deemed fit.
See/Hear
A Chronological Archive of Joy and Heartache most often referred to as LIFE
-
▼
2013
(348)
-
▼
August
(24)
- You can't run away from the world.
- casual hope
- a human expectation
- unthinkable loss
- simple chatter
- reading
- Street Light
- Blurring
- When I wake you're still a dream.
- Maisy
- Narcissus
- Myth & Fact
- They/We
- growing up
- A Constant Amnesia
- Shaping Space
- The Faded Colossus
- vast
- Body Images
- Interruption
- cycles
- I, the Vessel
- A Night in Fragments
- Dreams dissipate as eyes begin to blink through d...
-
▼
August
(24)
About Me
life
When I am not writing this is what I do.
No comments:
Post a Comment