fin.*
*i used to say it's worse on Friday nights (when it rains). riding with Roxie. taking the backseat. home bound. she struggles with her feelings with Wills. i said, give it a chance but be careful, what i just said was a silly unrealistic advise from an old woman. i said that like i was throwing my young friend to the pit. no way you can be careful when you already decided to give it a chance. we go reckless when we fall in love. we all do. ... you know, the troubles with long drives, you get a lot of airtime to spend, too many questions for asking, answers you're just too tired to give. it's like getting the center the stage while you suffer massive stage fright :).
"so what's your story mom?" Roxie asked. my story, nobody wants to hear that. and I don't wanna tell (anymore). i went softly, briefly "it's just a pile of jigsaw puzzle all messed up in my head." that's all i have to say about that.
i looked far from my window seat. (still) tearful.
... 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.
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