December 2011
15 posts
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“Sonnet XVII
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the...”
– Pablo Neruda (via atomiclanterns)
1 tag
Certainty
It’s the night before the outdoor movie you invited me to, and I don’t know exactly why I’m overly preparing for it. It’s a public picnic. What the hell am I supposed to be fussing over when half the people there will be sitting on newspaper and snacking on food packed in styrofoam. But, whatever, I let myself fuss anyway. I rummaged through my family’s junk to unearth a mat and a woven basket,...
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November 2011
27 posts
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