Memoirs of her's

{Quotes:Dreaming -cream/We shall be well prepared Mary Oliver/Who had a heart- Dionne warwick/Richard siken/Richard siken/euripides/Richard siken/euripides /letters to Milena Franz Kafka //picture: Pinterest}

but they remember everything. They forget appointments and anniversaries, but remember what you wore, how you smelled, on your first date… They remember every story you’ve ever told them - like ever, but forget what you’ve just said. They don’t remember to water the plants or take out the trash, but they don’t forget how to make you laugh. Writers are forgetful because they’re busy remembering the important things.

sit again, think about the old days, ruminate upon the pictures,

messy head of misguided understanding, retreat into myself,

as some great act of recognition, subsumed by the world;

People who hide don't always like who they are.”

For in silence, I find no rejection,

I choose to love you in loneliness…

For in loneliness, no one owns you but me,

I choose to adore you from a distance…

For distance will shield me from pain,

I choose to kiss you in the wind…

For the wind is gentler than my lips,

I choose to hold you in my dreams…

For in my dreams, you have no end.”

Pixies in the wind & sunbeams

On my face and optimism is

Persistent on the days when

The air smells less like diesel

And more like honeysuckle

Honey, the world has shrunk

Or maybe that's me but

That copse of trees is swaying

Gracefully, the warmth of laughter

Lingers on my lips, I only

lurking deep in every essence, an act of impurity staining such:

these strange nocturnal creatures, gelatinous nightmarish mass,

piercing both the fabric & the frame, for all things are blackened;

an endless mirage, murmurs of great antecedent permanence,