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和/或在社交方面支持我。网络:
Control
She knows. She knows how much control is worth. Knows what a
woman can lose when her power to move has been taken away. Frozen, casted in shadows. Dragged out to the
wind, hidden beneath the
garden. What if roses have stories they cannot tell? What if God's voice is in the
quietist things I've said? I'm thin blooded. Patience always tipping, tipping, to and fro. Dancing magnesium in the
light of the
flame. Standing hot hearted, but always boiling to the
heat of it's own drum. It is the
sum of my living. And I've just been trying to find my way. Stillness. I
feel like a
secret I've never told. Tucked tightly between the
sheets of my conscience. Words cannot be held. Hands constantly reaching out for empty. Hearts racing toward a
bearing paradise. Love longing, but never lasted. Why can't you let go? Ghostly habits. In a
perfect world I
would be a
thunderstorm. Rain falling everywhere at once, like big diamonds on my skin melting into reverie. Lightly making itself present, color bowing beneath the
clouds, being affected, being transposed. A
heavy set of hands on the
hills of my body, holding its shape together. Clothing the
fears. Keeping these lens from falling to pieces. When the
sky breaks apart, and the
weight culminates, will my fingers nail the
buzzing of blood and the
absence of numbness? Can I
keep the
door open and the
lights on in the
forest? Will the
trees still call me home again?
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