Friday, March 2

yesterday was the day he died.
two days before that was the day he was born.
and the day in between made me squeak, gaze, cry over old (love) letters, sit stock still at the window, worry over blackbirds, think about bread, stress over subtitles and phone my mother.

also, on that day, it felt as though i had the hem of my day dress caught in a vice.

5 comments:

Anya said...

sometimes I hope that some of the poetic things u say aren't actually, in reality true...

Deathdog said...

well well well...hello

the ue said...

march has a way with us doesn't it?

h said...

i love you

lambchop said...

A few things I admired aujourd'hui:

1. Ada or Ardor

2. Kenya AA

3. Ancient Alembics

...how are ya?