Saturday, May 27, 2006
How it hurts this silent spring knitting something between heart and something lower. Suffering. The flowers are just to damn bright right now, she said. All of the barbeques and baloons and carrides to country homes and invites and babies in their strollers in my way. My way. I wonder after you heart leadening and things all said and done, I just don't know. Just nothing. All of these things I thought diminish against the thought of living the rest of this life where growing things settle in my stomach and ache. Where insides of me and outsides of you make me sad. All of the families and bicycles with yellow helments on the children and lime greens. Rollerblades. Wind and sun and lakes. BMW's and new sunny thoughts and white teeth. So i will stay in and ache for a while. Wonder my losses and gains. What is wisdom and who is love. Lonely, lonely mid afternoons that I do not tease along with sad music or too much melancholy. Helicopters and lakes dotted with little white boats. The park across the street full of parents and children on swings and slides. My insides ache. Silent spring running into me and voiceless anger. I can't wait until August, she said, when things start to wither.