Tuesday, February 11, 2014


I am leaving flakes of skin everywhere hoping that its enough.

things happen to people
and they go away
things happen 
old shapes die
circles are pressed into ovals and wobble instead of rolling sweetly along 

you can't live in the past 
although there is no denying what the past has made you- your past is something maybe you can't live in, 
but you live with forever

the past has left me crippled 

things happen to people

they go away

Sometimes I think we have forgotten what love is.

it's thought to be something you seek or obtain or yearn for or live without or are void of or overflow with or need or want or have or don't or feel or see... something that is lost or taken or given...

these are ways we complicate simple things like love

No, love is like silence.
Love is like breath.
Love is a bowl movement.
Love is a hiccup.
Love is like waking up.
Love is the grey hues of night 
Love is a blur
Love is the space between two objects

It is something that simply is and always will be.
It's just there.

Don't complicate it.

My hair, the flakes of skin
they are the same as love 
anywhere I have been they are left behind
everyone leaves skin and hair all over everything. 

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