Monday, August 15, 2011
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I need you to understand something. I wrote this for you. I wrote this for you and only you. Everyone else who reads it, doesn’t get it. They may think they get it, but they don’t. This is the sign you’ve been looking for. You were meant to read these words.
Rock & Roll
I keep moving your bookmark in hopes that our story never ever ends.
I'm sorry I keep moving your book mark. I'm trying to figure out where you fit, while I'm trying to figure out myself. That doesn't mean I love you any less.
I don't want to finish you...I want to read each and every line that makes your being...
Speaking in a language most can't understand
I listen in a darkened room
beer bottles clanging back doors banging
no respect for the man and his tune
he sings of his loss and misery
the things that the rest can't see
his words chisel out what doesn't belong
shaking every leave from the tree
in my mind its just like a church to me
as my soul drifts up through the smoke
the people behind me are chatting
the guy at the bars going broke
the music flows like blood from his veins
I listen and watch every move
each word like a stroke on the canvas
of the paintings that hang in the Louvre
and I wanted to stay and talk to the man
I turned and looked towards the door
and realized that if I got to close
I might not need him anymore.
I can't tell you how much I love what you're doing here. I thought I'd send somehting I wrote but could only do it as a comment.
time for some tea?
I've been reading all of your posts for quite some time now, they're all wonderful, but this is absolutely perfect. I'm never going to forget this one.
Thank you so much for sharing this.
you're a beautiful enigma.
Every little time I wrote something, I enjoy... and I cry inside, just because I miss the smile, the colour of the eyes, all the sunshine... The "you" that's missing in me.
It's always great to read what you write.
Worse still, I lose myself ..
You are so, so unreadable.
I'm not a story. Not a poem.
Not another line.
Don't finish me.
Don't read me.
(Touch me, feel me.)
I would try to forget you, and go back to where I was before US but every time I try I lose the map.
Bob W.: Nice :)
Thanks for continuing this project for so long, and for sharing these bits of yourself in such an artistic and open way without pushing for attention in the blogosphere.
I am curious about what experiences caused some of your posts, and wonder what will move you enough to give you the words for your next one.
Knowing who you are takes away none of the magic I felt when I first discovered your blog. It is always a pleasure to hear from you again, and I just wanna let you know that I, too, loved you before you were cool :)
I run my finger across the page, never knowing what makes more sense about you, the lines or the space.
finishing me sounds a little sinister. Why would anyone want this to end?
from Love to Philosophy ...
will it work ?
...so you sit on the shelf, waiting to be read. Meanwhile I wait for the urge to want read on...
the unwritten novel of my heart
left in some forgotten alley of my soul
this is lost to a whole new degree. you've become a book i'd rather leave unfinished because with every new page there are lines i'd rather not read. things i'd rather not admit.
when you're willing to give me your real story, i'll be waiting.
You bet it's teatime!
I'd like to read you. You're just never there.
Although you and I have lived our lives outside the lines, we read between the lines. We are an open book, always under the microscope. I have nothing to hide or be ashamed of, you love me for me.
Like the lines on my hands, face and the curves of my body...you know me better than anyone else. It's always teatime.
It's ok if we lose our place at times, sometimes we don't read beginning to end, but pick up where we left off, somewhere in the middle.
You and I, more than a feeling.
Line upon line, we're a novel, a story, poems, already written. Read to oneself, or out loud. Expression. Me.
Wonderful imagery as always - both the photograph and the words.
So many unread chapters...
"Although you and I have lived our lives outside the lines, we read between the lines. We are an open book, always under the microscope. I have nothing to hide or be ashamed of, you love me for me."
Good lord. This is a good one.
It's just too complicated. I can't even keep up myself. I'm just so glad the somebody doesn't give up on me.
I miss you right now, I am hurting right now. Not only I lose my place, I fall deep down on the wooden floor. Please let them stop, don't let anyone ever tell you Alice in Wonderland is about drugs. Please let them be quiet and let you enjoy your fairytale. Love, me.
Every word you wrote above is true. We'll have tea together soon. Love you.
I would like that, the idea of you and me near. Drinking tea. Thank you for giving me hope, it will always be my fairytale you know. No matter what you say, what you read or what you speak.
I survived the day filled with hurt and tears not allowed to come out. If I can do it, you can do it too.
Remember, know when to stop with the beer mate.
You are so complelling. I just keep reading you.
we started reading before we knew how. we might never know how.
rest in peace walt.
But I tried. I tried hard enough to read and realize and try to make myself less repugnant.
I am dying. And I know you wish to make it your last wish to finish me but it's gone.
And now, I've found the reason to change who I used to be.
You will miss me while you were looking for yourself out there.
I found everything I was looking for. I always do. Me.
i hope you'd read me too.
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