My Memorandums.

Welcome Home.
21/12/2008, 11:49 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

But what’s the point if you don’t have a pretty face?  You changed your story around for me, and here I stand, ahead of your two green feet, yellow shoelaces, purple t-shirt, and cannot explain a word to you.  I will not.  It is my will, not my wall.  Away from you I fall as I try to stand again, on my own two toes, as they twinkle beneath the stars which will never cease to glow, luckily for the unstable minds of the world which lean on an unstable concrete ground, threatening and ready to give in at any time.  And we all walk around believing we know it all, when not a speck of truth any of us are able to tell, because those who talk know not how to hear or listen, and those who hear or listen know not how to talk.  So, the world turns around because it does not know how else to burn or live.  Those who inhabit its once sacred grounds have turned it into a heap of dust and 1 metre tree stumps, without any small four-petaled red flowers growing anymore.  And as my eyelids burn waiting for me to finally give in and cover my iris from the golden hairs on my chest, I yearn for a world which I know not of, which can never exist, in which I turn right and you turn left and we come down the same path but don’t scream or even breathe a bitter breath.  The dirty plates need to be taken into the sink, and the sugar bag needs to be closed up before phone calls are made to life partners, same sex or opposite, noticing them of the sleeping hours of each person as well as the additional free gossip on the side, of which no man I have ever known has been interested in.  And women talk and talk and talk and talk.  And when an important word or sentence comes out of the mouth of anybody I know or can see or hear please let me know.  Because the only truth I ever came across, I sensed.

Leave me alone, she said.

Hurry up, and come home, he said.

My real home is any land on which I am alone, she said.

He extracted a confused expression, shrugged his shoulders and turned his ankles to the four walled brick house he unfortunately and foolishly called home.

I love you, she said.

His back was already turned. He is but a foolish toad who cannot speak a word of the wordless language.

She left him with an I love you, and the sight of his back made her hurt more than the stinging tears she knew were on their way.


2 Comments so far
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I was literally “awww’ing” because there isn’t more.
I really, really love reading. And these days, I feel as if everything I tend to be reading is exactly the same. I LOOOONG for good literature. I think I’ve become more picky with my novels and passages, but even so… people don’t seem to write as well as they used to.
You, on the other hand, officially write things that I really appreciate. I love reading your stories.
You write so amazingly! I love it. I love your choice of words and how you structure your sentences. The narrative voice was put together really well.
Oh god! ^_^ I can’t wait to read more from you.

Comment by Firerocket

Thank you dearly
I truly appreciate that!
Much love, 🙂
Rose. 🙂

Comment by mymemorandums

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