February 2012
172 posts
4 tags
My southern heritage lies in the smell of June. It is my grandmother. Half crazed by the spirit of the wind giving her a sense she called, “The touch”. Catch a firefly with her tongue, she would rub the swollen florescence of their bellies to my forehead; A good vision on my birthday, & she always told me, that I would grow to be a woman who knew life by the way that it felt.
“I think the idea is that every person has to live for his or her own life and...”
– Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower
7 tags
He held my hand & suddenly it wasn’t just sex, we were making love. His fingertips traced against the palm of my heart & with a tight grip he’d thrusted himself deep enough to penetrate my walls of conviction. His savage kisses radiated a sense of ardor that lingered in the heat of this transitory passion. Somehow we’d gone from being foreigners to passionate lovers of a...
4 tags
There is something dark inside me. It’s devouring me; devouring any remaining humanity I have left. It makes me hate the world; I resent it with every fiber of my being because I cannot forget all that has been taken. I am very nearly empty. It began whenever I broke apart a while ago, & now I’ve almost bled out completely. Grief does very strange things to people… It can...
