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| pictures of progression in putting togetehr the tea & graphics boutique |
Gripping my red pen, trying to
gain ground, I begin again to edit line by line the unpleasant memories, the
affectionate irony of my red pen and my life. Life presents with no edits, no
red pen to eradicate the bad parts. Trees hang in a cover of humidity making
them look more withered than they really are today. Every part of me is
clenching up as I peer those darn woodpeckers clinging to the bark of the tree
already this morning, each one harnessing a memory I thought had been put in
the coffin of my past life. Whenever this devil of sort’s grabs hold of my
inners, I type away feverishly, heat fluttering in my cheeks. The typing stops
the rising panic within me, and the appalling need to just sink further down
into it. As if I were a prisoner of this despondent swamp, every so often, YOU creep
back in, the thought of you is what crushes the most...domestic violence is so
misunderstood...the internal scars have a way of swelling, just when you think
you have put them all to rest. As I step towards my yoga mat, a small pool of
still moonlight spills across the floor, as I have even outpaced the breaking
of dawn this morning. This is what happens when flood gates open up, and
memories flow in, and you toss and turn, until, finally, you just get up to
begin the day...
Lost in a moment
Right in the center of the
teardrop
Where the wet of you clings to my
eyelash
I blink
Just to hold
back the river...
Going to do more
work in the boutique to get it ready for opening day
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