Jodainislame
Sometimes I couldn't give it any thought, sometimes I'd drown myself. But nothing is sweeter than the relief of a cold glass of water after a hard day's work.
We've grown distant the past ten years or so. I used to not care, not worry, but I guess that's how it's supposed to be. When I left, things became complicated and never really went back to the way it was - or should be. Normally, I just find you a nuisance.
Pines were always the easiest, if you could get past the sap, with all their many branches jutting out perfectly to weave through. Oh, how I wish I could still hear your voice calling from the bottom, the panic in your voice always urged me to go further. I love you.
Are there any thoughts behind such manufactured eyes? How do you perceive things, can you even? We come from similar lines yet when our eyes meet, there are two different worlds.
There's always something else ticking away behind those eyes. Eternal knowledge and patience, as if nothing nor time would be a surprise. Each move calculated precisely as if the matter below their feet was cosmically willed to support them.
Ornate armor-clad soldiers galloping through open plains of yellow and orange. A winny and a neigh amongst thundering hoof-step.
My Dad would tell me that if I could learn how to ride a bike in the gravel, I could ride anywhere. And so, on that fateful camping trip when I was far too old to have training wheels, I learned how to ride a bike down steep hills in slippery rocks. But hey, I never fell.
She would look longingly at the countryside passing by. Large mountains serving a backdrop which seemed to loom forever while little grasses passed in an undistinguishable blur.
Wow, my cousin was so cool, can I be like her? We'll record the same shows and maybe in a year or two we can talk about it like we'd been friends forever. A pipe dream which led to a new world of inspiration.
An old dusty shop where time was infinite yet fleeting, sitting in chairs held together with tape (and other oddities) as we battle it out in whatever cardboard box seemed most appealing. Ever watchful in the corner, little pamphlets wrapped in plastic who yearned for a warm touch.
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