1) back to loveblender ...
i got me writing this, that night, I misplaced myself again. Just me a little hurt. Something on his wall that stirred my reaction. Silly me for forgetting. I am The Other Woman ... I threw away all my rights when I decided to be just as that Two months ago.
Or may be next time, I should ask him first, "whether it's a good time to feel bad."
I am just his mistress ... I am always wrong.
By IrMa
Date: 2012 Feb 02
Comment on this Work
[[2012.02.02.12.22.29231]]
Staying Away
... from a dream
you couldn't have
because it wasn't
really there.
... and found this from BK ... a sum of all my feelings ... and why I left FB again.
2. ... Facebook ...
... so i left again ... what's new? I always do.
Just too much sorrow in there.
3. Finally Workshy ...
after a long search ... Workshy's Soul Love ... and then you realize, it's just a song ... those were just words ... ain't true ... ain't for real.
4. and piXietales ...
... a mere product of a writer's imagination and craZy thoughts ... me all fueled up and got this old big bad liar punching her sick keyboard again :)
5. corby's a wreck!!!
it's always full, always no signal, always empty batt. God's hands working ... telling me it's just exactly what I need these days. that kind of quiet. I am not complaining about this anymore :)
6. happy sick
i missed my doctor. i missed my meds. i swell. i bleed. i've got my head bursting. my heart broken. i have reasons not to come to work ... that felt really wonderful. me just wanna get sick all the time. :)
I like to remember things my own way. how i remembered them, not necessarily the way they happened. I wanted a perfect ending. Now I've learned, the hard way, that some poems don't rhyme, and some stories don't have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what's going to happen next. My DeLicioUs ambiguity.
... my other garden ;)
About Me
- Irma
- I'm not a graceful person. I'm not a Sunday morning or a Friday sunset. I am a Tuesday 2AM, I am gunshots muffled by a few city blocks, I am a broken window during February. My bones crack on a nightly basis. I fall from elegance with a dull thud, and I apologize for my awkward sadness. I sometimes believe that I don't belong around people, that I belong to all the leap days that didn't happen. The way light and darkness mix under my skin has become a storm. You don't see the lightning, but you hear the echoes.
No comments:
Post a Comment