Inconsequential
I dreamt of you yesterday. But its time to move on. And move on. I think of all the white, pearly-white, fuchisia-white. Fragile-white. Let me relive November 1996 once again. Just once. I miss you, A. I really do. Those clouds looked so real. And my hands held the promise of truth. So real.
posted by 100hands at Sunday, December 11, 2005
3 Comments:
Open those eyes, Oh Many-hands-Man.
I feel mean and inappropriate.
Total rain.
Sigh!
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