Four little bits of writing I found from a 2009 blog I never launched.
(untitled) I like it when you play with my hair play with my mind. play with my heart. make me feel beautiful while my skin is still soft. eyes are still bright. hips are still round. I like it when you kiss me right there. kiss me all over. play with my hair Make me […]
It’s been decided. I’m un-invited to the possibility. You won’t give chase to the chance that this could be something worth talking about. Worth fighting about. Because it has to be perfect, and smooth, and expected. That’s where the opportunity over-ripens and is smooshed beyond usability. Compost is the option. Compost you and me. Written […]
I thought I had lost a leather-bound journal given to me by a friend in 2002. I thought I had lost it in a fire. but I didn’t. It was in one of the boxes of things I stored at my parents’ house. I probably stowed it away because it was too painful to keep around. It was given to me during one of the most difficult times in my life. And here it is. spine ready for a backbend. to show me its insides. and remember. This is the last piece I wrote before tucking it away. on a page marking a third of the way through the pages.
My parents are moving into a smaller house so they’ve started the process of going through their things. Things they’ve accumulated over the past 40 years or so. As a lot of children do, I’ve stored things of mine at their place over the years so I’ve started looking through them. Some I’ve packed and unpacked between multiple countries from the time I was in elementary school. One treasured item I thought I’d lost in a house fire almost 10 years ago was in one of the boxes – a leather-bound journal given to me by a friend. I probably hid it away in a box because at the time I’d had it, I made some very poor decisions and treated friends (and myself) terribly. I needed to store it away for a while, to keep the writings at a distance, I suppose.