Is it the blue skirt and the flowers on my desk that made you stare at me in silence? Could it be that I like putting flowers on my hair and I like to colour my lips that made you think I am a woman?
I can't go on with this indulgence you say, but the truth is that I still think its the colour orange that made me glow.
Here's all of it again, for you,
intoxication isn't a state of the mind. It's the willingness of the heart. Its the power to see things in their statelessness, without grief overpowering you. My unpadded feet can feel the sand, and the toes play around trying to hold the sand between them. Often going to the beach is a self imposed breach of freedom. You must feel the feeling of loss in order to correct yourself no?
The house with the granite, green in shades, the green around unsuitably crafted out, the cane in the chair and the air filled with the joy of apprehension. The grasping of the situation, it's grief laden intent to make them wait in order to bring out the bursts of sheer innocent happiness...
Do you often think in black and white? Or would that be in colour? If in colour, what may I ask dominates the frame? Please tell me it's orange! I beg of you! Even a white or a yellow I can take. But nothing more.
I can sit stand eat breathe glare smile weep dance on my toes tickle the soul out of you tell you the story of the rabbit who ate a turnip and the princess who wears the bow at her nape even today.
Its all around you in spells. Need I say more?
So as it goes, you wanted this and this you get for asking me for a while the reason I love to indulge all the while knowing it yourself.
No comments:
Post a Comment