Maybe that's why it was so difficult to wake up...
“Time has changed nothing at all. You’re still the only one that feels like home.” — Missy Higgins
Reach inside of me squeeze the scream out of my heart. Breathe silence back in.
Today, I took time to notice. To feel something existing outside of me. I took time to breathe, to sit still, to remember the little things I love about this life. Life loved me back, and it only took 29 seconds. It showed me its beautiful sway and my reply was nothing more than a sigh. For 29 seconds I remembered the good in my heart. For 29 seconds I felt hope. It’s a good start.
In your light I learn how to love. In your beauty, how to make poems. You dance inside my chest where no one sees you, But sometimes I do, and that sight becomes this art. — Rumi For A.
We exist somewhere
Beauty in the breakdown
Hurt. It has a way of slowing things down for me. Time, space, life. The days are longer. The nights would be endless were it not for the gift of inebriation. I find a false sense of comfort in the drink. I know it’s false, but it gets me by. It helps me slow down. It helps me keep tempo with the rest of my life. It helps quiet my mind, helps me close my eyes. Helps me. There is a certain...
Poema De La Despedida
-Jose Angel Buesa Te digo adiós si acaso te quiero todavía Quizas no he de olvidarte… Pero te digo adiós No se si me quisiste… No se si te quería O tal vez nos quisimos demasiado los dos. Este cariño triste y apasionado y loco Me lo sembré en el alma para quererte a tí. No se si te amé mucho… No se si te amé poco, Pero si sé que nunca volvere a amar así. Me queda tu...
-P. Neruda Don’t go far off, not even for a day, because — because — I don’t know how to say it: a day is long and I will be waiting for you, as in an empty station when the trains are parked off somewhere else, asleep. Don’t leave me, even for an hour, because then the little drops of anguish will all run together, the smoke that roams looking for a home will...
Strangers with Memories
LOVE - P. Neruda Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the perfumes of spring. I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands; how did your lips feel on mine? Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks, the white statues that have neither voice nor sight. I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten your...
“Love, with little hands, comes and touches you with a thousand memories.” “Preguntas Hermosas” is a story about a time that was shared between two people, told through a combination of “Poema X” by Pablo Neruda and “Under the Harvest Moon” by Carl Sandburg. It unfolds in three parts; a fond remembrance, loss, and then finally acceptance.