honeysuckle
Honeysuckle
The Autumn leaves blew away for spring and spring moved right in.
Standing next to my mom changed forever.
As we breathed in the fresh air the honeysuckle tickeld our noses.
It filled our lungs and healed our hearts wounds.
In that moment an auburn curl crept across her face as she basked in the glory of the gleaming sun.
We both inhaled the sweet breeze and I knew everything would be okay just as it was meant to be in the first place.
She looked at me thoughtfully and brushed my cheek with a soft hand.
A tear ran down my face and fell to the ground; a new beginning sounded relieving.
We both stood there and watched the sun go down.
I took her hand and in a beautfil way I was born again.
Dated: sometime during summer.
See? that is full of passionless faith.
i have writters block but i have it bad and ive had it for a while now. i wouldnt trade what i have now which is being happy for being able to write.
my mother told me a while back that im one of those writters that has to absolutly miserable to write good works. and shes right. and i hate that. i right about the miserbale things so i can let go of them i want to keep the happy things in my life with me forever and if i write about them its like making a copy. the second copy isnt always the same as the first and i manage to keep the second not the first. i am passionless.
i remember in the 6th grade when i was kinda sorta suicuidle and my writting was great.
for example this is the ending of a poem that has a bad beginning
"...i grab the hand of the known
touch the face of the used
kiss the lips of the wanted ..."
what a passionless life i am leading. but i am happy. i am happier than ive ever been. i would not give this up so i could write. its not a possible profession so what am i worried about.
live life with passion thats all i can say right now.
sadly,
kat
The Autumn leaves blew away for spring and spring moved right in.
Standing next to my mom changed forever.
As we breathed in the fresh air the honeysuckle tickeld our noses.
It filled our lungs and healed our hearts wounds.
In that moment an auburn curl crept across her face as she basked in the glory of the gleaming sun.
We both inhaled the sweet breeze and I knew everything would be okay just as it was meant to be in the first place.
She looked at me thoughtfully and brushed my cheek with a soft hand.
A tear ran down my face and fell to the ground; a new beginning sounded relieving.
We both stood there and watched the sun go down.
I took her hand and in a beautfil way I was born again.
Dated: sometime during summer.
See? that is full of passionless faith.
i have writters block but i have it bad and ive had it for a while now. i wouldnt trade what i have now which is being happy for being able to write.
my mother told me a while back that im one of those writters that has to absolutly miserable to write good works. and shes right. and i hate that. i right about the miserbale things so i can let go of them i want to keep the happy things in my life with me forever and if i write about them its like making a copy. the second copy isnt always the same as the first and i manage to keep the second not the first. i am passionless.
i remember in the 6th grade when i was kinda sorta suicuidle and my writting was great.
for example this is the ending of a poem that has a bad beginning
"...i grab the hand of the known
touch the face of the used
kiss the lips of the wanted ..."
what a passionless life i am leading. but i am happy. i am happier than ive ever been. i would not give this up so i could write. its not a possible profession so what am i worried about.
live life with passion thats all i can say right now.
sadly,
kat