july, july, julyyyyyyy
listen to this everyone with a head and a heart and a fluttery stomach! (spaces not reserved for certain fickle northwestern boys ANY more, spaces that will refuse those sorts of boys a room to stay in or a second look for quite awhile, spaces that are not so sad or hurt but more like filled with things that are READY to move and grow new legs and arms and wings and feelers and drink honeysuckle dew and champagne all night and WRITE WRITE WRITE!)
ahh, well: july!
so rainy and hot that i can't wake up without feeling feverish
--or perhaps that fever is a symptom of another affliction
like making a new best friend or falling out of love or both at the same time
this month started with overwhelming amounts of tequila and hasn't taken a gulp of air since
but continues on at this gorgeous pace
i can feel things again without crying
so i did, at 4 am
on a front porch in a sticky old southern town with
messy sandy everywhere and beautiful architecture...
in a thunderstorm!
and i feel like a new woman,
(one who never wanted to come home to atlanta)
and this new woman still becomes sad and lonely,
and occasionally bored,
but is about to hop in the shower and go love her friends and
be SO content with the idea that even if it's not always physically near, it exists.
and gorgeous sweaty fluttery lovey hungry moments exist
in dreams and vacations and the past and the future
this is where i fucking am
love
leah hope
*note: ahhhh this is totally unedited and please NOTE: NOT a poem just a silly messy entry. SO: sweet saturday adventures, all darling readers.
ahh, well: july!
so rainy and hot that i can't wake up without feeling feverish
--or perhaps that fever is a symptom of another affliction
like making a new best friend or falling out of love or both at the same time
this month started with overwhelming amounts of tequila and hasn't taken a gulp of air since
but continues on at this gorgeous pace
i can feel things again without crying
so i did, at 4 am
on a front porch in a sticky old southern town with
messy sandy everywhere and beautiful architecture...
in a thunderstorm!
and i feel like a new woman,
(one who never wanted to come home to atlanta)
and this new woman still becomes sad and lonely,
and occasionally bored,
but is about to hop in the shower and go love her friends and
be SO content with the idea that even if it's not always physically near, it exists.
and gorgeous sweaty fluttery lovey hungry moments exist
in dreams and vacations and the past and the future
this is where i fucking am
love
leah hope
*note: ahhhh this is totally unedited and please NOTE: NOT a poem just a silly messy entry. SO: sweet saturday adventures, all darling readers.