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Posted: Sun Aug 24, 2008 11:06 am
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1. We are mutilated sunflowers hiding in hollow trees.
2. I could trace every inch of your skin, which I imagine feels something like the surface of the moon, and I still would not be able to locate the part of you that can see me through this fog. The lighthouse you promised to always be.
3. The others thought we spoke a different language due to our hidden meanings that pulsated beneath every syllable uttered. The worlds we created in the most simple of words. Words like molasses, sunflowers, icicles. They held everything.
4. But the nuns are choking on the sound of swallowing their own tongues. And I sit beside them, legs crossed, hoping someone has a microphone to spare, an offered exit for this gurgling choir.
5. The harp could never sound like a banjo, and perhaps this is the moment where we slipped. The moment I decided I needed mud pies and grass stains while you needed sanitizer and earmuffs. And although we may never sing the same tune, you will forever have a place in my symphony.
______________________________________________________ Author's Comments
The first 3 were written on June 17th, the other two were written now.
Strange how time keeps moving but people stay in the same place.
"i loved his secret places but i can't go anymore" -Tori Amos, Northern Lad
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Posted: Sun Aug 24, 2008 11:10 am
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Posted: Mon Aug 25, 2008 6:43 pm
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Posted: Mon Aug 25, 2008 6:48 pm
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Posted: Mon Aug 25, 2008 7:09 pm
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Posted: Tue Aug 26, 2008 1:45 pm
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Posted: Wed Aug 27, 2008 2:02 pm
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Posted: Wed Aug 27, 2008 6:17 pm
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