The problem with loving is when to stop.
I pulled the lavender inside, keeping it from the smoke. It has forgiven the elements already and reaches for, with wispy tendrils of sun starved fronds, for the drapeless window. I shake my head at our spiritual juxtapostion. What if I offered you little pieces of my heart, one bit at a time, so you wouldn't even notice you held it? A feather A cottonwood bud plumped with autumn A squash seed A sunflower petal A walnut You wouldn't even notice, the pieces would be placed absently on your altar next to the photographs of your great-grandparents. You wouldn't even notice me there. You wouldn't notice the eek of the walnut cracking or the petal rustling. Oils of the seed leaving a single drop. I still love you. I still love you. I still love you. Even, and especially when, I come apart.
2 Comments
10/13/2020 00:58:53
This is one of the stories that I love reading. I know that it is online and that I have to read it through a screen rather than through a book, but I still enjoy it. I am one of the people who actually adjusted well. I still enjoy reading books a lot more, but I can still give this a try every now and then. I can still read stuff like this, but that is because it is way too good.
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1/21/2021 18:42:58
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