Attempts at a letter1. Dear Lauren, In days since we've spoken i've broken my rope too. learned about how kisses don't always tie you to a man sometimes, it's an idea and the kiss is cutting you free.Attempts at a letter
2. My Dear Lauren, It's been way too long since i've given you hugs and my arms miss the space you'd fit into. But as days go by shells disappear especially mine because even though I am an ace at hiding, this school is an ace at digestion either me or my shell I won't let it be me.
it turns out shells are more
Ending a phaseIt was saturday, eating dinner with my parents feeling something less than hopeful and once again she talked sense into me.Ending a phase
It was night and I was wishing time was water so I, mother nature, could send down the north chill slowing time until the butterflies in my stomach took hints from bears and learned to hibernate. I couldn't – breath because breath in cold gets caught between hopefuls and hopeless and this mess is once again mine 'cause I – hoped.
2:50 chemistry showed me even kisses can't be safes for rude awakenings like when I re
Poets stand on citiesOr I could be a poet and write a different story where bridges are only means to cross rivers and sky scrapers don't decompose into trusses, concrete, and a monthly salary. where words can do more than write requests to build cities but begin to unravel them, exposing crumbling side streets. Not so desperate housewives in pristine suburbs can't see two blocks away a mother pulling her daughter to the ground wouldn't know to – cover her head to dodge gunfire. but these words don't only tell downfall they also pull eyes to uprise 'cause paint-peeled walls won't hold anPoets stand on cities
Fallen AppleYou couldn't keep The summer breeze From pushing her further away. Towards that hidden spot Where no one bothered to be 'Cause in the summer heat Apple trees were nothing To be suspicious of. So she hid, everyday, In leaves and branches With the boy From the town around the corner. They climbed limbs Till there was nothing mightier Than their small bodies Hiding in the heavy breeze. And they were careful To never let any fruit fall. They ate from one shaded spot And the rest were sacred. She blended in And built herselFallen Apple
| ok so basically i hate having to sumarize who i am into tiny boxes because i don't fit into a box... but here goes: i'm a music loving jew who also writes poetry chills with friends and aspires to be an engineer. i hate mindblock with all my heart. cello is my instrument but piano is my passion. anything else u may want to kno... well lets start by being friends then we'll see what we can work out |
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The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity
- Dorothy Parker (attributed).
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Please comment on my gallery, I've worked very hard on all that is in it: [link]
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