tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42713942575505689932024-02-08T13:04:14.013+11:00BLOG.Because it's easier to tell you than somebody who knows me.Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.comBlogger207125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-86760451935096215652014-07-02T17:44:00.001+10:002014-07-02T17:44:30.030+10:00The Haunting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgevSHAA9A06MWEw2FJ8fEMbEb4HX1nLnynMRO768OOsuIJ-o_JLM1ndWOuPhhqu6fGFHxhRWiMt7eKhN_ib726DCZKOw2njz9id76M_c7f7D1d46h6ht8nxr3T844xVuOOMgW4L31szI/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-07-02+at+5.42.42+PM.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgevSHAA9A06MWEw2FJ8fEMbEb4HX1nLnynMRO768OOsuIJ-o_JLM1ndWOuPhhqu6fGFHxhRWiMt7eKhN_ib726DCZKOw2njz9id76M_c7f7D1d46h6ht8nxr3T844xVuOOMgW4L31szI/s1600/Screen+Shot+2014-07-02+at+5.42.42+PM.png" height="316" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://gracxe.tumblr.com/post/79254600884" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cccccc;">photo. </span></a></div>
<br />
you make me ache<br />
there's a feeling in my chest of<br />
how many girls left a mark on you?<br />
i want to be sick<br />
but i can't get her face out of my mind's eye<br />
would she mind i sleep where<br />
she's slept<br />
like i mind<br />
she's kissed your lips<br />
cause right now I'm at the lowest of my high<br />
there are shadows from someone else's dreams chasing me<br />
and i ache for my own missed memories<br />
how many people<br />
have left a mark on me<br />
who are they out haunting<br />
i can't listen to his song<br />
without thinking about the last one i loved<br />
and if he's loving someone now<br />
we are just a chink in the chain of this never-ending<br />
story of heartbreaks<br />
and moving onLilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-14630843682095632592014-04-26T21:45:00.001+10:002014-04-26T22:04:46.787+10:00Metamorphosis<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie7qBUEtkYYPaNPoIG0aW7uUBJ7AFPCyVqNavltkkdBi5J3LxRHErK5YgRVjKi4m8GzfyPvt5jNWF2EzXYsl6Ul4s641UY4m9IGXB_rLW1eVwG7Pb2EMXCAWDHPGD09mKlQZlTAZ4dOhw/s1600/tumblr_my16tlZvb31rip50ao1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie7qBUEtkYYPaNPoIG0aW7uUBJ7AFPCyVqNavltkkdBi5J3LxRHErK5YgRVjKi4m8GzfyPvt5jNWF2EzXYsl6Ul4s641UY4m9IGXB_rLW1eVwG7Pb2EMXCAWDHPGD09mKlQZlTAZ4dOhw/s1600/tumblr_my16tlZvb31rip50ao1_500.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://gracxe.tumblr.com/post/71088530808" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cccccc;">photo. </span></a></div>
<br />
Lover, I'm sorry<br />
but I am not always flesh blood and bone<br />
I'm not talking of reincarnation<br />
I don't know about metamorphosis<br />
but sometimes<br />
after days<br />
I lose myself.<br />
<br />
They say we are made up of<br />
millions of pieces of stars<br />
that my right hand<br />
is made up of the dust<br />
of a once-sun<br />
but somedays I just feel like dust.<br />
It feels lonely to be made up<br />
of something<br />
that died so long ago,<br />
whose home is in the sky<br />
and would blow away<br />
given a moments notice<br />
to get back there.<br />
I don't want to be lost in the wind<br />
if you are here.<br />
<br />
Once, I crawled through the soft<br />
sleepy sheets of your bed, to tell you<br />
that today I was made of shells<br />
every time I moved my fractured body<br />
I could hear pieces of me grinding<br />
against one another<br />
pieces that did not fit perfectly<br />
but left pockets of air throughout me<br />
when i reached out to touch you<br />
a gaping hole appeared<br />
in my chest<br />
you could see right through me<br />
I do not want to be made up<br />
of the armour of dead molluscs<br />
no matter how tough they are.<br />
<br />
For a time<br />
before I met you<br />
I was a ghost<br />
it started with<br />
my shadow softening<br />
voice dampening<br />
the tips of my fingers fading<br />
one day I looked in the mirror<br />
all I could see left of myself<br />
were the bags beneath my eyes<br />
packed and ready to go<br />
it hurts to look at<br />
when your body is a whisper<br />
of something you said<br />
as a sad child.<br />
<br />
Tagore said<br />
he found his lover in each life<br />
I'm not talking of reincarnation<br />
I don't know about metamorphosis<br />
but lover, with you<br />
I am solid<br />
I promise you<br />
my temperamental body<br />
is yours<br />
in all its forms.Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-86845131844298031732014-04-08T18:10:00.002+10:002014-04-10T23:34:00.016+10:006 things I should tell you but haven't<br />
<br />
1. You are giving me growing pains. I have stretch marks showing up, on my hips, lips, thighs. I never knew I could be this much.<br />
<br />
2. I'm sorry for all my past and future mistakes. I am still getting the hang of this. I want to be better.<br />
<br />
3. Sometimes my stomach hurts when you kiss me. Being with you scares me. You are miles away from my comfort zone.<br />
<br />
4. Last night you told me you loved me for the first time, during a drunken fight. You're an idiot. I love you. I've loved you for weeks. I can't remember what it's like not to love you.<br />
<br />
5. I write and rewrite texts to you. It has been months and I still can't control myself. I will not stop trying for you.<br />
<br />
6. You still leave me speechless. I can't remember how to string words together because all I can think of is your lips. I have tried writing two dozen poems about you. None did you justice.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-72164372889564088422014-03-18T13:36:00.000+11:002014-03-18T13:36:36.526+11:00bird<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQiZlkaWw4vGEpKRz4LUkwlgnoXhGDv2YlGSjFBw85g8uEdXtW1WDcgCZ1TLto4Jf9Q2pweld-6UzdmGhvSFtS30cu0eJnVfjJrxufWJFJCbvEOvHCX1SCvTosXclIw1Ef5nZpmqd6y4/s1600/tumblr_mvpj2uw3Gu1scg82wo1_500-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxQiZlkaWw4vGEpKRz4LUkwlgnoXhGDv2YlGSjFBw85g8uEdXtW1WDcgCZ1TLto4Jf9Q2pweld-6UzdmGhvSFtS30cu0eJnVfjJrxufWJFJCbvEOvHCX1SCvTosXclIw1Ef5nZpmqd6y4/s1600/tumblr_mvpj2uw3Gu1scg82wo1_500-2.jpg" height="265" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://gracxe.tumblr.com/post/79932766366/satans-baby-on-acid" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cccccc;">photo. </span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
lightly feathered, you lie<br />
sprawled.<br />
desperately clutching and releasing<br />
a thousand tender<br />
capsules of air<br />
inside your tiny lungs<br />
<br />Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-75671562648715954272014-03-11T21:17:00.000+11:002014-03-26T19:06:18.094+11:00MotherI have never been good at returning gifts.<br />
In year five, mother, you gave me a pink, plastic iron,<br />
for my dolls clothes, you said.<br />
I didn't have the heart to tell you<br />
that my doll had been lying in the shadows of my room<br />
for the last year<br />
and that every time I'd held her, it felt empty.<br />
I smiled, I thanked you.<br />
My doll didn't leave my arms for weeks,<br />
so you would think I had meant it.<br />
Then there were the watches,<br />
you've given me three.<br />
I wore each for years.<br />
Until they inevitably paused, shuddered and died.<br />
There was the too-bright beach towel.<br />
There were the winter pyjamas and the bookmarks.<br />
<br />
And to your credit,<br />
you always offer to swap or return or resize<br />
yet every time, I shake my head and swear I adore it<br />
all pearly whites and whiter lies.<br />
I have never wanted to disappoint you.<br />
Mother, you raised a polite daughter, but not a truthful one.<br />
<br />
So when you asked,<br />
so tenderly,<br />
if I had ever wanted to hurt myself.<br />
I should have told you.<br />
No, I have never wanted to hurt myself,<br />
but when I was twelve I sat in the car on a lonely day and<br />
sliced my hand with your pocket knife<br />
while i waited for you to come out of the furniture shop.<br />
I should have said,<br />
no, I have never wanted to hurt<br />
but sometimes I think there is a vampire living inside my head and he's eternally thirsty.<br />
I should have said to you,<br />
no, I have never wanted to<br />
but sometimes i imagine stabbing myself in the throat with a carving knife<br />
and it calms me down.<br />
I should have said no,<br />
I have never wanted to hurt myself because that would hurt you<br />
but sometimes it feels like I'm craving something<br />
there isn't a fix for.<br />
<br />
I never wanted to kill myself<br />
more than a drowning cat would want to be shot.<br />
It was an option.<br />
It was plan B.<br />
It was meant to be release.<br />
<br />
But mother, I could not tell you that,<br />
anymore than I could tell you that I didn't like the first watch you gave me.<br />
<br />
Because I don't know about God or religion,<br />
but I know that you gave me my perfect arms,<br />
and throat and beating heart.<br />
And I could not bear to say: yes, Mother, I want return the first gift you gave me.<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cccccc;">I know you did not want this for me.</span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-78703140637101290302014-02-11T19:17:00.004+11:002014-02-11T19:17:50.169+11:00early days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFISXpjyWRlfCNmKNwkCchEXrd_VzOWJParTgPNsgjTKUyIX5zqX2aTiL80QKPmOw2XZbKR2nRHsnFbH_w6knpDE-n2Ax0IIK2vyyi1anYhpDGvhaJNC_4l873p05HSUePQZ6GQ0OI0Vk/s1600/tumblr_mzn90stC3c1s871zbo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFISXpjyWRlfCNmKNwkCchEXrd_VzOWJParTgPNsgjTKUyIX5zqX2aTiL80QKPmOw2XZbKR2nRHsnFbH_w6knpDE-n2Ax0IIK2vyyi1anYhpDGvhaJNC_4l873p05HSUePQZ6GQ0OI0Vk/s1600/tumblr_mzn90stC3c1s871zbo1_500.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://gracxe.tumblr.com/post/74000689633/wildbelles-more-like-this-here-x" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cccccc;">photo. </span></a></div>
<br />
<div>
into</div>
<div>
smitten</div>
<div>
infatuated</div>
<div>
obsessed</div>
<div>
a crush </div>
<div>
adore</div>
<div>
taken by</div>
<div>
keen on</div>
<div>
besotted</div>
<div>
charmed</div>
<div>
hooked</div>
<div>
fond of</div>
<div>
dazzled</div>
<div>
intoxicated</div>
<div>
wild about</div>
<div>
enamoured</div>
<div>
sweet on</div>
<div>
mesmerised</div>
<div>
but not</div>
<div>
in love </div>
<div>
with</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
<span style="color: #999999;">I may be kidding myself</span></div>
Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-91983732822317208152014-01-30T22:01:00.000+11:002014-01-30T22:01:32.517+11:00<div class="post_title small" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size: 16px; line-height: 21px; margin-bottom: 10px; outline: none 0px;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; color: #343434; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ilJfccyflxQY7IaVWt9AwQw7nl39wqaBWxvtiiOWJTOlpD5wxzVuEpF-a5qyR3laOqQm-26ZL6vmdNN1Tx_-dtvG2_PTN62JnjsxQSoyeObfDGuJdV0asprRxuV-EzL0xTSSnI9mBHI/s1600/tumblr_lx5ataaab81qgkoejo1_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8ilJfccyflxQY7IaVWt9AwQw7nl39wqaBWxvtiiOWJTOlpD5wxzVuEpF-a5qyR3laOqQm-26ZL6vmdNN1Tx_-dtvG2_PTN62JnjsxQSoyeObfDGuJdV0asprRxuV-EzL0xTSSnI9mBHI/s1600/tumblr_lx5ataaab81qgkoejo1_400.jpg" height="400" width="266" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://gracxe.tumblr.com/post/56681554792/when-the-japanese-repair-broken-objects-they" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cccccc;">photo. </span></a></div>
<div style="color: #343434;">
<br /></div>
<div style="color: #343434;">
“<span class="quote" style="box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px; text-rendering: optimizelegibility;">I began to realize how important it was to be an enthusiast in life. He taught me that if you are interested in something, no matter what it is, go at it full speed ahead. Embrace it with both arms, hug it, love it and above all become passionate about it. Lukewarm is no good. Hot is no good either. White hot and passionate is the only thing to be.</span>”</div>
</div>
<div class="post_body" style="background-color: white; box-sizing: border-box; color: #444444; float: left; font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', HelveticaNeue, Helvetica, Arial, sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19px; outline: none 0px; overflow: visible; padding-top: 2px; width: 500px;">
<table class="quote_source_table" style="border-collapse: collapse; border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;"><tbody style="box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;">
<tr style="box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;"><td class="quote_source_mdash" style="border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px;" valign="top">— </td><td class="quote_source" style="border-width: 0px; box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px; padding: 0px;" valign="top"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;"><span style="box-sizing: border-box; outline: none 0px;"><i>Roald Dahl</i></span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</div>
Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-82732581343670126212014-01-23T18:59:00.001+11:002014-01-23T18:59:59.831+11:00ConfessionToday,<br />
you asked a question<br />
I have not contemplated<br />
for years.<br />
<br />
Did I think my depression was glamourous?<br />
Initially? Certainly,<br />
when you don't care if you live or die<br />
and you are at a party<br />
with friends and acquaintances<br />
getting too drunk on cheap vodka from cheap flasks<br />
and smoking spliffs in darkened back-yards<br />
it is easy to romanticise the sadness,<br />
to compare it to your favourite tv character.<br />
<br />
But after a few months,<br />
I hated it.<br />
Because most of the time<br />
I wasn't dolled up and misunderstood<br />
most of the time I was pathetic and miserable.<br />
<br />
I was trying to understand how and why<br />
I had ever been happy.<br />
I was embarrassed that I felt this way for no good reason.<br />
And I was afraid that I was going to feel this way forever.<br />
I spent two years trying and failing to remember the person I was<br />
and wondering if i would always be this way.<br />
Most of the time,<br />
I was fucking terrified<br />
and hopeless<br />
and exhausted<br />
and anxious<br />
and just very, very sad.<br />
<br />
This is my best explanation.<br />
<br />
<br />Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-34087113381117259592014-01-12T23:43:00.000+11:002014-01-12T23:45:01.276+11:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq10xJStRDjGdxDyAQzhXYi2JIvqndWYBik8R2HuW6JCDx4Rb88N5u2Zi0m2-WKsHtl03ioYNEI29ErDpK9nXS7AgYZD4zc42LMPM_OIl8wwG8JVyO9Ne6xxEcuP_4GOv4Z38ET-GX9EE/s1600/tumblr_molx2e2WJ11rwe56eo1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq10xJStRDjGdxDyAQzhXYi2JIvqndWYBik8R2HuW6JCDx4Rb88N5u2Zi0m2-WKsHtl03ioYNEI29ErDpK9nXS7AgYZD4zc42LMPM_OIl8wwG8JVyO9Ne6xxEcuP_4GOv4Z38ET-GX9EE/s1600/tumblr_molx2e2WJ11rwe56eo1_1280.jpg" height="640" width="425" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://gracxe.tumblr.com/post/69153986131" target="_blank"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">photo. </span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
You are a breath of fresh air.<br />
My lungs have never tasted so sweet.Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-54045769534940751652014-01-11T14:05:00.001+11:002014-01-11T23:03:19.439+11:00relax into yourself<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRvcOx6spdO5UO78yo1IgGkXKu4HRiCDcGDYSvztsBgTXjFkb2jX1hGUiMzXFtX8FEDppfirWxHf7VgSW3t_8IO_CMBf9lY8kWDZ9pRWUDH5dNoVDEHJWAa3nWFtHS4nBmM3Fiij9dRl0/s1600/tumblr_mpo8ygMqkt1ryl1jdo1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRvcOx6spdO5UO78yo1IgGkXKu4HRiCDcGDYSvztsBgTXjFkb2jX1hGUiMzXFtX8FEDppfirWxHf7VgSW3t_8IO_CMBf9lY8kWDZ9pRWUDH5dNoVDEHJWAa3nWFtHS4nBmM3Fiij9dRl0/s1600/tumblr_mpo8ygMqkt1ryl1jdo1_500.jpg" height="640" width="425" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://gracxe.tumblr.com/post/72311130449" target="_blank"><span style="color: #eeeeee;">photo. </span></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
at the end<br />
when it all washes away<br />
all the pretence<br />
and jealousy<br />
and the grains of other people<br />
<span style="color: #cccccc;">that grip to your skin like sand</span><br />
you are left with yourself<br />
find her<br />
remember her<br />
learn to love her<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-956867765289956592014-01-08T21:44:00.002+11:002014-01-10T12:07:45.837+11:00The Beginning of the End<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYIynH02oRQrkL-GwWeVzJQ-VCUtKNMGOeyszx6eIyh6dw6ZZR8nfwausj3cfCJWsU4hgD904q46e-3-gj7BZIpUlv6q2uFh13QfpEw_qn7ucJMfK3zczztqZ5usj-La7wjRf70b4FegA/s1600/tumblr_m8ka76ub1E1qfe9uao1_1280.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYIynH02oRQrkL-GwWeVzJQ-VCUtKNMGOeyszx6eIyh6dw6ZZR8nfwausj3cfCJWsU4hgD904q46e-3-gj7BZIpUlv6q2uFh13QfpEw_qn7ucJMfK3zczztqZ5usj-La7wjRf70b4FegA/s1600/tumblr_m8ka76ub1E1qfe9uao1_1280.jpg" height="640" width="480" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://gracxe.tumblr.com/post/69153878659" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cccccc;">photo. </span></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
The fluorescent light from the bathroom presses greys and blues into the shadows of the darkened room. I'm lacing our fingers under the duvet.<br />
"Maybe two weeks." He says.<br />
"You're kidding!" I react, "Please- tell me that you're kidding!"<br />
"I'm joking," he laughs, "maybe three months- maybe more."<br />
I smile at him. "I can't imagine sleeping with anyone else."<br />
"Me neither."<br />
I kiss his hand.<br />
"I don't want to break up yet." His last word dominates the sentence. My stomach hurts.<br />
"Me neither."<br />
As we lie against one another I contemplate the shift that has occurred between us. For the first time in a long time I can feel the edges of myself. For the first time in my memory, I feel lonely.<br />
"I love you." He says, it sounds different. For reasons I don't fully understand I want to cry. I can't see his face in the dark but I can feel his gaze, he's waiting.<br />
"I love you, too."Is it me or does it sound lighter?<br />
My cunt is still wet with his saliva.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #cccccc;">In six months I will break up with you. And I will wait two weeks. It will mean something. </span><br />
<br />Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-78926783783800294802013-12-03T18:13:00.001+11:002013-12-03T18:13:28.838+11:00Letterhead #17<div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgokahmDY_26pgK68NKW0jAGaNDIwnkdikgQJ1NXbKEUQnhwrTNo6akatwb_2PNJXxlfee0VNJWs1c383kk0KPfWEapLHYI1Jw0otiLazRbjDwtTabs96u70BDO7SQXEYX1vdAtSR9GSVQ/s1600/tumblr_muz0wo3wJA1svkx3ro1_500.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgokahmDY_26pgK68NKW0jAGaNDIwnkdikgQJ1NXbKEUQnhwrTNo6akatwb_2PNJXxlfee0VNJWs1c383kk0KPfWEapLHYI1Jw0otiLazRbjDwtTabs96u70BDO7SQXEYX1vdAtSR9GSVQ/s640/tumblr_muz0wo3wJA1svkx3ro1_500.jpg" width="432" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://noemieriviere.tumblr.com/post/64576238546" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cccccc;">photo. </span></a></div>
<div style="font-family: Helvetica; font-size: 12px;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Dear Jack,<br />
<div>
I am so, so sorry I fell out of love with you.</div>
<div>
If it means anything, I didn't want to fall out of love.</div>
<div>
But I just…I felt so far away from myself.</div>
<div>
I tried so much to make it work. And I did for a while. </div>
<div>
And we were happy.</div>
<div>
I was the perfect girlfriend. But I wasn't me.</div>
<div>
I fell out of love with you when I fell in love with myself.</div>
<div>
And that's when I stopped wanting to try.</div>
<div>
It's not your fault and it's not mine.</div>
<div>
We both changed until we stopped suiting each other.</div>
<div>
Thank-you for being the perfect first love.</div>
<div>
I hope we can still stay friends.</div>
<div>
With love,</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-67553703454620354122013-06-15T19:23:00.002+10:002013-06-15T19:23:49.084+10:00shy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/134796" target="_blank"><span style="color: #cccccc;">photo. </span></a></div>
<br />
Happiness doesn't start anywhere.<br />
It lingers in your soul even when its breathing is so quiet you mistake it for the ocean on the other side of the world, it is there.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-77289918799036462332012-08-10T20:02:00.000+10:002012-08-10T20:02:31.397+10:00Food, water, shelter.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9WZMiEuPYsLucx_AJFbh8wDSFF5fUkadMovnYl5odg0zWlOuJ5nZilDfDNq9T0IbZC88MNi3X_UyNM4evse7He3bhcBiiwVLMogkFxWxLRpo48Sxufsc15z-0IaZllqtx3iZaaJBSmY/s1600/tumblr_lx8wjvArma1qc6vgqo1_1280_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd9WZMiEuPYsLucx_AJFbh8wDSFF5fUkadMovnYl5odg0zWlOuJ5nZilDfDNq9T0IbZC88MNi3X_UyNM4evse7He3bhcBiiwVLMogkFxWxLRpo48Sxufsc15z-0IaZllqtx3iZaaJBSmY/s320/tumblr_lx8wjvArma1qc6vgqo1_1280_large.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://canned-peas.tumblr.com/post/15263274031/mykindafairytalee-by-rachel-dowda-on-flickr" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">photo. </span></a></div>
<br />
She no longer takes care of herself.<br />
You can see the sun through her skin, it's too thin (like eyelids). It won't hold a shadow.<br />
Her hands are soft and pink and splotchy.<br />
She won't stop trying to distract herself.<br />
She won't turn and face her troubles instead of continuing these futile attempts to ignore them.<br />
Somebody tell her to get a grip.<br />
Caring for yourself takes more than this.<br />
It's time to wake up.Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-76742892295310282142012-08-02T21:47:00.000+10:002012-08-02T21:47:01.745+10:00Letterhead #16<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1RzK2kjFGwUZN-joIuqlP22dLKG7I22nOO6V9vdVekJnzivXfQoe6XOv7NA1C86z5Pr_X0PrtLPukiaG5r-1eMMe7VZJEqEVOBvTbOQza2HKGcJfVhswN4pRzDsnytliworCPPDWzXTE/s1600/tumblr_lzekwvdywU1qd68j7o1_500_large.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1RzK2kjFGwUZN-joIuqlP22dLKG7I22nOO6V9vdVekJnzivXfQoe6XOv7NA1C86z5Pr_X0PrtLPukiaG5r-1eMMe7VZJEqEVOBvTbOQza2HKGcJfVhswN4pRzDsnytliworCPPDWzXTE/s320/tumblr_lzekwvdywU1qd68j7o1_500_large.png" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/23707542/" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999;">photo. </span></a></div>
<br />
Dear Jack,<br />
I'm lonely when I'm with you.<br />
Not always, but often.<br />
I try so hard not to be sad around you.<br />
Or if I am sad, not to let it show.<br />
<br />
I don't want to tie my sadness to you.<br />
Tie you to my sadness.<br />
I told you that, once.<br />
You said something like:<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #666666;">I'm sorry that you're sad, but it doesn't affect my mood.</span><br />
You wanted to reassure me.<br />
It did.<br />
But it also made me feel<br />
so<br />
incredibly<br />
lonely.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Sometimes I feel so lonely it feels as though I'm trying to breathe in Carbon Dioxide. </span><br />
Because, you're my person, and even you don't understand.<br />
It was different when I was alone.<br />
I was better at caring for myself.<br />
Less focussed on you.<br />
Less soft.<br />
It was better.<br />
I don't know if I can get better with you.<br />
I can't breathe.<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<br />
<div style="line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 8px; padding-left: 10px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: left;">
<q><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It's getting to the point where I am no fun anymore, I am sorry. / Sometimes it hurts so badly I must cry out loud, ' I am lonely.' / I am yours, you are mine, you are what you are, you make it hard.</span></q></div>
<div style="line-height: 22px; margin-bottom: 0px; margin-left: 0px; margin-right: 0px; margin-top: 0px; padding-bottom: 8px; padding-left: 10px; padding-right: 10px; padding-top: 4px; text-align: right;">
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999; font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;">-David Crosby</span></div>
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</div>Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-16273940096195510632012-06-11T20:30:00.000+10:002012-08-02T21:47:58.454+10:00Letterhead #15Dear Jack,<br />
I'm petrified. I don't want to look at you the wrong way.<br />
I'm scared because I can't avoid this. You can't see it coming but I can.<br />
When you're thirty, and married, and maybe you have a child or two.<br />
And you think back to me, the first girl that ever counted for you, the girl you thought might be the one.<br />
And you cringe.<br />
The aspiring actress. The sometimes drunken, always depressed mess. An incredibly self-absorbed, shallow, foolish girl.<br />
And you wonder what happened, or maybe you'll know. And you won't be as open-minded as you are now, and you'll know what an idiot I am. For the drugs and the self-destruction.<br />
Ugh. What a cliche.<br />
<br />Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-42498690246294356112012-05-09T21:25:00.000+10:002012-05-09T21:32:25.869+10:00fighter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRWgL9JGC-LJ4feczipHahg_lVrFGgnOEwEquEDt1-5l8S_LsSfJOwbEu-8aec4AkBpoMRqX0cAn7aMv_GBI9kQDl9Nv4xISgurQm7KNhfSEmWv4MRriFJnNk5EqvJlqTaSSDFTqo9GKo/s1600/tumblr_lxut6mYhsw1qloeeao1_1280_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRWgL9JGC-LJ4feczipHahg_lVrFGgnOEwEquEDt1-5l8S_LsSfJOwbEu-8aec4AkBpoMRqX0cAn7aMv_GBI9kQDl9Nv4xISgurQm7KNhfSEmWv4MRriFJnNk5EqvJlqTaSSDFTqo9GKo/s400/tumblr_lxut6mYhsw1qloeeao1_1280_large.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/21974355/via/lilahdelainey" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">photo. </span></a></div>
<br />
Dear World,<br />
I'm trying to fight.<br />
I want to be a fighter.<br />
So if I fight you,<br />
please don't think it's because I dislike you.<br />
It's because I need to fight myself<br />
my friends<br />
my enemies<br />
my unhappiness<br />
my thoughts<br />
the universe.<br />
It's because I need to fight anything I can to remind myself I can fight.<br />
<br />
I'm strong enough to fight this.Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-58036553845863643862012-05-09T21:23:00.000+10:002012-05-09T21:33:53.559+10:00yuck<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzzYuo9bdp20w_oXpG8BXd2HMXUKbQjF2_1uoREWg0ARaGFwJTCMXrPNcqbCOSyotvruRPqkM7pcCx2mZwnqevHMW70gKSQhGPfD71M2bmYkAOGLxWttdJ6hOun7smQqiwVuCr-Tsbc40/s1600/tumblr_m13kt7X70h1qc144qo1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzzYuo9bdp20w_oXpG8BXd2HMXUKbQjF2_1uoREWg0ARaGFwJTCMXrPNcqbCOSyotvruRPqkM7pcCx2mZwnqevHMW70gKSQhGPfD71M2bmYkAOGLxWttdJ6hOun7smQqiwVuCr-Tsbc40/s400/tumblr_m13kt7X70h1qc144qo1_500_large.jpg" width="277" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/25104088/via/lilahdelainey" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">photo. </span></a></div>
<br />
my head feels so foggy and thick<br />
i hate this feeling<br />
but i don't know how to cure it<br />
<br />
yuckyuckyuck<br />
<br />
familiarity can eat dickLilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-63103567154405562052012-04-15T18:33:00.001+10:002012-04-15T18:34:52.179+10:00Release<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixDZli-6Sg2ynqb5miYncLujwZ7zmRkaDFrM5-zH1eEbfz8ECSz3YbOizGjzcV-oZNhHTr1fBt7eu8BiqU2GpvbXQqdavtGp5z4WdXRQPPOPpxrf8PdpIUvBV809jpzSuI_T5IdOVWW6w/s1600/tumblr_krul4nIrMv1qz6f9yo1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixDZli-6Sg2ynqb5miYncLujwZ7zmRkaDFrM5-zH1eEbfz8ECSz3YbOizGjzcV-oZNhHTr1fBt7eu8BiqU2GpvbXQqdavtGp5z4WdXRQPPOPpxrf8PdpIUvBV809jpzSuI_T5IdOVWW6w/s400/tumblr_krul4nIrMv1qz6f9yo1_500_large.jpg" width="306" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/12098603" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">photo. </span></a></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">"But why acting?"</span><br />
"I'm not sure,<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">it's just what has always felt closest to right."</div><div style="text-align: left;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">"But it doesn't anymore?"</span></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br />
</div><br />
"No...I don't know.<br />
I feel like I owe it to myself I guess."<br />
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">"To your former self or to who you are now?"</span><br />
<div style="text-align: center;">"Former."</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">"Even if you don't want that anymore?"</span><br />
"Yeah<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">...I don't know."</div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">"Let me ask you something, when you were a child and people asked you what you wanted to be when you grow up, did you say an actor?"</span><br />
"No."<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #444444;">"What did you say?"</span><br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: right;">"I said happy."</div>Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-90035599186210345222012-04-04T23:03:00.002+10:002012-04-04T23:03:49.440+10:00I need to bite my tongue to stop myself from saying it.<br />
I need to think it through to stop myself from feeling it.Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-32637286426966690562012-03-28T20:08:00.000+11:002012-03-28T20:08:10.962+11:00thanks.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqn5FoNoOJZp8-7nECrALSLSj7VeyW2NSNWASaw83ivtJFVe1YtGX8BO5bPB7wwKEZOCGg7y554irX8cm8dEn4VCz_WQ-h9d0gGQnzMdx1RWHg-VtIAoXyd9Rcaz2Esnu8KqFk3EE88E/s1600/tumblr_m02825jMHg1r32l2go1_500_large-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBqn5FoNoOJZp8-7nECrALSLSj7VeyW2NSNWASaw83ivtJFVe1YtGX8BO5bPB7wwKEZOCGg7y554irX8cm8dEn4VCz_WQ-h9d0gGQnzMdx1RWHg-VtIAoXyd9Rcaz2Esnu8KqFk3EE88E/s320/tumblr_m02825jMHg1r32l2go1_500_large-1.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/23967709" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">photo. </span></a></div><br />
There is a girl in my lecture who has blonde hair, and a vulnerable face. She wears pale cotton blouses and cardigans that look like my grandmother's and has a set mouth.<br />
And she has a doll, it must be at least eleven inches and it sits on her desk. The doll has an elvish face, and short, blonde hair and twig-green skin.<br />
In my classes, sometimes I hear girls talk about the girl, how odd she is.<br />
Please, don't listen to them. One week, when I felt upset and uncontrolled and shaky, I saw you and your doll, and I understood why you brought her.<br />
I even pretended she was mine. And I felt better.<br />
<br />
I guess I just wanted to say -Thanks.<br />
Stay strong.Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-27832232796833626442012-03-26T21:37:00.002+11:002012-03-28T08:10:24.270+11:00untitled<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCT01B-6ed9WRYXzeidxGBE431GIYwp-cRM5k5isx0kqlGyzQBs0p_CVADUZHVE7DZe5OiSmlWDdWMTjF_iITmaSajvR1BkYlLzjEYqV0phkFtHSzkTwUrrZLKNr1lOPe2EPJncpHHbkw/s1600/tumblr_lv2ldyc8Ld1r28776o1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjCT01B-6ed9WRYXzeidxGBE431GIYwp-cRM5k5isx0kqlGyzQBs0p_CVADUZHVE7DZe5OiSmlWDdWMTjF_iITmaSajvR1BkYlLzjEYqV0phkFtHSzkTwUrrZLKNr1lOPe2EPJncpHHbkw/s400/tumblr_lv2ldyc8Ld1r28776o1_500_large.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/18625678" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">photo. </span></a></div>my skin<br />
rises to meet your hands<br />
i can tell<br />
i have no control, that<br />
this is unconscious<br />
it's automatic<br />
instinctive<br />
this<br />
this is bigger than you<br />
or me<br />
this is chemistry<br />
and nature<br />
and DNA<br />
this is written into my body<br />
into the patterns of your palms<br />
as they glide<br />
down my spine<br />
over my stomach<br />
this is different<br />
and new<br />
and it makes my heart<br />
beat<br />
in time with something<br />
there isn't a word for.<br />
this might not be love but<br />
it makes me believe in it.Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-22675735629020172252012-03-26T21:18:00.000+11:002012-03-26T21:18:46.565+11:00PromiseDon't forget to look up once in a while.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhDXIL8ih728UzZhKssvSjJU_LmcUbx65fR4P0Zmw972gLjIBKCQJp8bpSbeGZkRQLClMMa91Lk1g9gocOvvQ19-GtW4PcwnxULzNqUxhs-oqHrWdlaiflTSQl8FVWcsq2sB95sqZBm-w/s1600/9eoB85t34p09gbyquY8IaGPao1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhDXIL8ih728UzZhKssvSjJU_LmcUbx65fR4P0Zmw972gLjIBKCQJp8bpSbeGZkRQLClMMa91Lk1g9gocOvvQ19-GtW4PcwnxULzNqUxhs-oqHrWdlaiflTSQl8FVWcsq2sB95sqZBm-w/s400/9eoB85t34p09gbyquY8IaGPao1_500_large.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/695839" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">photo. </span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Force yourself to.</div>Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-51245126815107477612012-03-19T19:32:00.001+11:002012-04-13T13:58:17.881+10:00The Apiarist.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW__Gm2T5yh-4U-Bnn5QZG7aLGu-JIt6sgnicnkV7qfwrPSj-9JS19QId5jW9Zc3j9XVJl9dvPhXnKBhH6D9blftmnGxEfTwVBLKpRIRHuIC1uEpjMKL6Kz5OW9xeMdBPLaI6r8_cr0vY/s1600/tumblr_lwwvxi8P3P1qfoxvoo1_500_large.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW__Gm2T5yh-4U-Bnn5QZG7aLGu-JIt6sgnicnkV7qfwrPSj-9JS19QId5jW9Zc3j9XVJl9dvPhXnKBhH6D9blftmnGxEfTwVBLKpRIRHuIC1uEpjMKL6Kz5OW9xeMdBPLaI6r8_cr0vY/s320/tumblr_lwwvxi8P3P1qfoxvoo1_500_large.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://weheartit.com/entry/20681521" target="_blank"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #cccccc;">photo. </span></a></div><br />
there is<br />
a storm of bees<br />
swarming, forming<br />
around her head<br />
on days like this morning<br />
people passing<br />
pretending<br />
they can not see<br />
any bees, can not see<br />
the honey<br />
dripping from her<br />
eyes<br />
knees<br />
thighs<br />
there is no smoke, today<br />
<br />
one young man<br />
nears her<br />
does not wear<br />
a beekeeper suit<br />
but still, leans in<br />
and licks the honey<br />
off her swollen chin<br />
and licks the honey<br />
off his velvet lips<br />
i think, maybe,<br />
he knows<br />
today, she doesn't like honey<br />
i think, maybe,<br />
he knows<br />
she doesn't like to be<br />
a beekeeper<br />
always.<br />
<br />
she wonders<br />
if he exists<br />
to prove the bees<br />
don't have to.Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4271394257550568993.post-34903027623211368852012-03-19T16:43:00.000+11:002012-03-19T16:43:06.158+11:00UpdateToday I wore the necklace you gave me and wished I had you instead.<br />
Today I sat in a lecture and tried not to cry.<br />
Today I finished reading a book I started last night.<br />
Today I didn't fall asleep halfway through the day, which I've been doing for weeks.<br />
Today I accepted my emotions.<br />
Today I tried to eat healthily and then ate some nutella that someone left in the pantry.<br />
Today I was meant to edit my assignment that's due today, but I left it.<br />
Today was like all the others in the end.Lilahhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13620152993852664881noreply@blogger.com3