Doesn't make sense. I know. I've said too much of nothing to say more nothing
If only I was more than a copy. More than a little girl who thinks she knows what real sorrow feels like. More than a dreamy, infatuated lover, speaking passion through the guise of song lyrics. If only I could speak in real words that sooth into real meanings. I wish my words could give you something stunning and new, and evoke a tear for something old and lost. Something real. Something better than here. This is change, and this is what frightens me the most. Yet I want to touch somewhere that hasn’t been touched before. How many times has the 7th floor elevator button been pushed in impatience? How many people have opened the door to the 5th street gallery? How many hands have plucked a rose? How many lips have touched your own? So many eyes have scanned the stars, but have we found them all? Visions of owls and the changing of the seasons…where are we going? Please tell me. Everything from here on is where it rains, ponds turn to rivers, and favors forget the way. When a stranger smiles, maybe that’s a sign. Something is worth noticing, because something has changed. I don’t know anything else, but the flesh of your palm. It’s where my mind goes when I lift away a day of worries and a lifetime of thoughts. I’m not caught here. I’ve somehow found this place and it feels like now. Old doubt has left me uniformed of the lonely, but I may not be able to find my way back. Retracing my steps means leaving the path, the one thing that has made itself known. There in the striped trees, my hand flickers next to yours. I feel like I’ve stolen something. Is it really meant for me? My words can’t make feelings and they can’t speak for me either. I’m silent, too afraid to ask why. This can’t be mine, because I actually want to keep it with me. What’s the difference? The tragedy? The tears? The broken vase? I don’t miss any of it. Why is it here? Why like this? Why now? I want so much to give you more. It seems simple. To say something for you with my own voice. Who knew there were so many bottled colors?
posted by Integrity at 2:14 AM
4 Comments:
Sad :-(
No, not sad :)
Happy! Happy, but nervous to feel change, even when it's the best thing that could have happened. Who knows why? But change really is good. no, it's great. Without change just imagine all thing things everyone would miss out on. Sometimes I do feel like a little girl who's lost all of her words. So happy in the now and wishing she could show it stronger, say it better, or hold onto it harder. Part of me wonder's why I've gotten this lucky, you know? It's a silly thing to wonder about because I don't think we're really supposed to question happiness. Happiness is something we should let fill us up without questioning where it comes from. by not "finding my way back" I mean going backwards...back to me last year, when I was all about the solitude, and all about the spontaneous running away from SF. The broken vase was part of that life, part of a past that's ready to change. And now is now, me taking the change, loving the change, and experiencing a fabulous writer's block so that i can't seem to do it justice. Oh how i wish there were more than words in this world... and more even than that. I wish i had the power to do so many things right now! So many things for you and the rest of this world! But I'll have to settle for cliches and writer's block for the moment. It's frustrating :P
I think you are doing things in your own way by being who you and by being yourself. but thats just my humble opinion :)
I hope so! :) And that means a lot to hear it from you, thank you:)
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