11-09-2013, 07:59 AM
She never cried
into her father’s shoulders,
tears staining the Oxford shirt,
or ached to ache inside,
from loving long and hard.
He was the sand
she could never keep
in her hands at the beach,
escaping between fingers.
His words like paper-cuts--
I’m not going with you;
I don’t love you enough for that
--sting salty with each load
she packs into her car.
Her rearview obscured,
she has no reason to look back.
I’m not going with you;
I don’t love you enough for that.
into her father’s shoulders,
tears staining the Oxford shirt,
or ached to ache inside,
from loving long and hard.
He was the sand
she could never keep
in her hands at the beach,
escaping between fingers.
His words like paper-cuts--
I’m not going with you;
I don’t love you enough for that
--sting salty with each load
she packs into her car.
Her rearview obscured,
she has no reason to look back.
I’m not going with you;
I don’t love you enough for that.
"What I thought was an end turned out to be a middle.
What I thought was a brick wall turned out to be a tunnel."
--Tony Hoagland
"In this world where classification is key,
I want to erase the straight lines
So I can be me."
--Staceyann Chinn
What I thought was a brick wall turned out to be a tunnel."
--Tony Hoagland
"In this world where classification is key,
I want to erase the straight lines
So I can be me."
--Staceyann Chinn