a note

you're a tatoo, made like rain on my skin, a remnant: one more thing i made it thorugh (a story to be told in quiet rooms), one more memory i've survived and launched hungry eyes through like days that never end

and i, like you asking if my head fits through doors (easily) put happened on a train and shipped it off to....

you know where i mean, one more call away: it's too late to hear your voice and shutter, too late to alter your footsteps with laughter or phrasings (you are beyond the syntax of tears) and mae believe make myself believe the colors of fall don't change- so i make my way and remember, fondly the best of it,t he worst of it, today i'm bursting with grumbles and giggles; a life of sad and large laughs.

2004-06-25 | 1:15 p.m.
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