| back & forth | | ||||||||
April 23, 2015 @ 12:37 a.m. | ||||||||
Once upon a December... | ||||||||
Fluorescent light began to feel garish, so I turned it off and finished the dishes by candlelight. But some nights are better left to the blue-white tint of artificial light. Bleakness can take over as soon as there’s an empty sink in a quiet night. Something in me started to die; flickering with its last breath. Or perhaps it was already dead and this was me finding corpses. Finding dead magic within stone walls; zest buried between the mortar, suffocated dreams. Perhaps this was me as an adult. My bright, colorful world bleaching, stalling, stale and grey. And, perhaps, I should be grateful that I’m not completely gone. I find there is still enough awareness to mourn the loss. |
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movingsands | | o | p | n | d | | |||||||