Sunday, May 15, 2011

Men Wearing Nylon Stockings

It makes it so difficult to return

it becomes more difficult since they're not. I turned in bed long hours until the pain becomes unbearable and unsustainable dream. Then early in the morning just fall into irregular and frightening dreams that can only upset. Broken sleep and sometimes I wake up screaming, some with tears on his cheeks, and many others whispering your name. Stretching my hand into the air, thinking that I am about to Rozart. And again I realize you're not. Let your voice no longer resonate in my ear to see you go, your little hands will not seek support in the mine. I do not sit in the sun to contemplate or to listen.

No longer will you spend your fingers by my cat's neck when he was twisting between your legs. No longer will you mention my name in short from a distance, or are you going to seek my help. Your eyes will not wrinkle when I give into the sun or going to comment out loud about the smell of jasmine.

I find it so hard since you left taking you all that I belonged ... I find it a place to imagine that the phone will ring half the time now, it almost always was you. With your sweet voice.

I can not walk the streets without imagining, looking for you and create you. I can not imagine that you're gone that way, you have game. Do not want to believe, much less understand. For now, I can not otherwise.

[Stirring old letters ... I found this passage.]


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