All I can do is talk to you while we cook and listen to old jazz records in the kitchen.
All I can do is remember your birthday and our anniversary and the days special things happened.
All I can do is touch your hand lightly when something happens in the movie on the couch.
All I can do, is make love to you, kiss you, grow old with you and then die with you.
But the light in me will still want to touch the light in you and while all of these things are beautiful and good, none of them are that.
It is all, incredibly unfair.
Tuesday, April 26, 2016
Thursday, April 21, 2016
Thursday, April 14, 2016
The Dream Of Trees
Thursday, April 7, 2016
The Nothings We Made From Somethings
You don't know?
We were all told we’d be something and some of us believed it, and we believed it so much, we did nothing, and so we never became anything.
We were all told we’d be something and some of us believed it, and we believed it so much, we did nothing, and so we never became anything.
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