She did things with certain certainity ,like putting all her senses into it and making it look,ideally nothing.And then her eyes turn unusually more brown.
Despite the noise,her silence was almost killing everything around.She was aware of the echos and the little noises that came from the transperency of the moment.She held herself in the blurrness and the comfort of the unkeptness.There was were she suffocated life and the pauses she couldnt understand.
Friday, February 22, 2008
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4 comments:
wonderful, a poem in prose in itself but i long for the book that would follow...
when you say it, no one can even emulate it for its simply the best.
@ crimsonflaw
I wish She cares to understand the urgency of transforming into a book..and liberate!
@poison coated elixir
Thank you for reading it.Your inputs are as important as Her. :)
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