caseycoviello
The color of her eyes, a soft grey in the waning light, was synonymous with the word. She felt its weight pulling down on her shoulders and could barely lift herself up the stairs against its pressure
sudden; falling in love
We were driven past the patchwork of peanut fields and cow pastures, underneath tunnels of compact cement, whipped past stretches of loneliness and deep thought towards a place called home
Tomorrow
Ill be gone
and going
and you can sleep on the depression my body carved
with its love and its laziness
you can go too
and leave your own mark
but i'll be smiling anyway
A getaway; either
or an affront against a whale
to beach: to destroy
or merely sail
Ebb and flow; she's apt to produce upon hearing the word uttered. But, the tide, she realizes, is so much less than its symbolism. It just is.
Falling out of a relationship, as if you were trapeze artists swinging skillfully across the tent, only to be dropped, falling until you land to the realization that you're alone