(no subject)
dear lilian, the absolute heroic triumph of theatre over television, prompting the waving of new flags and stamping of fresh headlines, my first and last blindfolded gallop into the traffic of our southern highway and the sound of a cigarette being sucked through deep red lips,
stay stranded with your island of untamed syllables. lie flat-lined on your back with your ear to the floor venting the hours of weeks past, announcing the time to a grandfather clock who "can't remember much of anything these days". you can tell by the look on this outpatient face that i'd sell both my hands for your busy embrace. i stared down on you and my bristled sadness swept away the folds in the sheets and the rouge off of your cheeks as you dreamt of your sleep. breathing like a ballroom waltz, i danced with your ghost but was burdened by my feet who were eager to leave.
your hospital beds like a coffin, (coughin') up your lungs on the dinner tray and demanding memorial service at 7 p.m. in loving memory of. so i left you to blame me
(1) for the empty chair beside you
(2) for the deathbed that you're tied to
(3) for the rest of your life.
when you smiled for the camera, it always smiled back (to back) with the nervousness of an artist to her model citizen. (sit us in) the front seat and hand over fi(r)st the keys. i wound you with fifty kisses each day, despite the doctors' see-saw warnings that you'd never sing for me again. i held your hand till we melted into each other like candles down-side up. love was never enough, "wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up..."
like stevie wonder under a swarm of braille, i taste the color of your voice.
i miss you so much. i'm going to heaven to build you a beautiful victorian house with a milk-white fence and a porch that faces west, just like you always wanted. i'll sit and watch the sky and wait for you.
please hurry, beautiful. i've never seen the sun set so proud.
faithfully and unashamedly yours,
adair
.
adair, the strength to my frailty and the stitch in my wound,
i awoke to the sun shining through the window. the doctors said that i've been sleeping for months. they call it a miracle. i can still feel your tears on my pillow and your kisses on my face, but no one will tell me why i am alone. there are so many things to say that i thought i'd never have another chance to.
where did you go?
now is when i need you most.
undyingly yours,
lilian
p.s. jesus taught me to speak cursive.
stay stranded with your island of untamed syllables. lie flat-lined on your back with your ear to the floor venting the hours of weeks past, announcing the time to a grandfather clock who "can't remember much of anything these days". you can tell by the look on this outpatient face that i'd sell both my hands for your busy embrace. i stared down on you and my bristled sadness swept away the folds in the sheets and the rouge off of your cheeks as you dreamt of your sleep. breathing like a ballroom waltz, i danced with your ghost but was burdened by my feet who were eager to leave.
your hospital beds like a coffin, (coughin') up your lungs on the dinner tray and demanding memorial service at 7 p.m. in loving memory of. so i left you to blame me
(1) for the empty chair beside you
(2) for the deathbed that you're tied to
(3) for the rest of your life.
when you smiled for the camera, it always smiled back (to back) with the nervousness of an artist to her model citizen. (sit us in) the front seat and hand over fi(r)st the keys. i wound you with fifty kisses each day, despite the doctors' see-saw warnings that you'd never sing for me again. i held your hand till we melted into each other like candles down-side up. love was never enough, "wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up..."
like stevie wonder under a swarm of braille, i taste the color of your voice.
i miss you so much. i'm going to heaven to build you a beautiful victorian house with a milk-white fence and a porch that faces west, just like you always wanted. i'll sit and watch the sky and wait for you.
please hurry, beautiful. i've never seen the sun set so proud.
faithfully and unashamedly yours,
adair
.
adair, the strength to my frailty and the stitch in my wound,
i awoke to the sun shining through the window. the doctors said that i've been sleeping for months. they call it a miracle. i can still feel your tears on my pillow and your kisses on my face, but no one will tell me why i am alone. there are so many things to say that i thought i'd never have another chance to.
where did you go?
now is when i need you most.
undyingly yours,
lilian
p.s. jesus taught me to speak cursive.