In love... with words
I rode home at 11:30 tonight, forcing great gulps of frosty air into my lungs, looking at the stars, up behind the black bare trees, and gasping at Orion. How long, how long since I noticed stars; no longer, now, mere inane pinpricks on a smothering sky of cheap cloth- but symbols, islands of light, soft, mysterious, hard, cold, - all things, as much as I made them.
... can you imagine being able to write prose like that? I still love Sylvia. Some things don't change.
I want too much, I think. But I'm so happy when I'm with him. But when I'm not with him, I wonder how much he knows me, really knows me. haha... it's only been like a month and a half, how much can you really know anyone anyway?
... can you imagine being able to write prose like that? I still love Sylvia. Some things don't change.
I want too much, I think. But I'm so happy when I'm with him. But when I'm not with him, I wonder how much he knows me, really knows me. haha... it's only been like a month and a half, how much can you really know anyone anyway?