dotage comes…

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Mar 262016
 

and i feel betrayed… i’ve punched through the bubble plastic and this side is full of little pains and the non-elastic, the time clock ticking away at moments that never last, that lead to the next, closer to the dark, dark, dark…

nothing can hold it back, not the jamieson, not the sparkling wine, the bicep curls, the praying for more time…

i’ve gone past trying to find, the folds of yesterday, of tanned skin, and twinkling eyes…

i look towards the city lights, the long restful sleep, seeing just to see, no expectations, melting into grace…

float…

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Mar 182016
 

back to when you sat in the brilliant sunshine in the middle of a garden in the middle of spain. hot, dusty, full of mischievous birds and gardeners…
close your eyes and feel that moment. perfect. gorgeous.
~~~

open the shutters and weep. at how you finally got here. how you found beauty…and it spoke italian. mornings filled with bright, and green, and sharp sun cutting into red tile and marble. duck into a cafe for a cafe au lait and croissant, feel the sticky drip of mint gelato on your fingers sitting by the ponte vecchio…
~~~

long slow walk through trinity…st stephen’s green, the long slow ride from lucan to the city, to hear about Godot, and listen to the bodhran, the pipes, and the charming song, drink that dark pint and dream about how it’d be if he were here with you…
~~~

soon. past summer heartache and sweat, you’ll fly to the city of lights and feel for hemingway’s ghost, find that infamous smile, and ghosts of great loves walking along the seine…
~~~

it would never be if you were here with me. i’d be small and closed and done. no matter how much i think i wouldn’t…and that is the real of the matter. plain simple fact. okay.