take back. smack. I have this way of exposing my veins; Slit wrist form, outline another lover. And he walks, questioning if I stay sane. Left. Rewind. Just another basic her. In solitude I shape new forms of fist. I come back to a height too far above. I can reconstruct pain into resist; You’re back. No matter. Just another glove. I stay stepping on whatever it takes; Escape the abyss of you finding you. It’s snapped in the past, my heart...
conception of contractual occasions return me to circumstance. like sand between my toes the day we swore history perished, earth became our dance. the day walking stopped, we started to soar. nothing left behind as we execute time. blanketing. seventeen months. you cannot. sea. salt water. our treasure loot. until thoughts sadly drifted, back to blue. gum tree strolls, tropical garden spinning - contact was never required to feel. truth. and...
I was having a conversation with my bestie Chris the other day and we decided that my basic response to just about everything will be, "Sing it, child," for an undisclosed amount of time. No one sings it like Amy. While I tend to prefer lyric-less tunes when I'm writing, too many words can be distracting, I obsess over songs I love. Such as: Sing it, child. I think this song beautifully encapsulates why I will be single forever. I've never met a...