This was a year. There is not much more to say about it. Things happened but they always do. This was a year as liminal space between dumb and stupid. Dumb things happened. I kept saying “everything is stupid” and I was never proven wrong, perhaps proof of what I was saying. A quote as […]
Tagged: Love (951)
(Untitled)
It was when their love felt institutional that he interrupted dinner and announced his intentions, and she said, Because I served leftovers?
(Untitled)
He describes the wine as earthy. She puns mirth with dirt. He finds that “as funny as murder.” She says “you kill me.” And they are married.
(Untitled)
She said, Your love’s too big for me, and he smiled and said, No one’s said that to me before, and she let him think what he wanted to think.
(Untitled)
The rooms brightens with her in it. She wears the kind of clothes that show she doesn’t need to care. I approach. Can I see your toes? I ask.
(Untitled)
He was falling in love with the sad girl. He said, I want to taste your sadness. She went away and came back with a plate of scrambled eggs.
(Untitled)
We bathe in the light of nostalgia. She pours another round. We make sloppy love on the kitchen floor. In the morning, we both feel our age.
(Untitled)
We walked under a sky of a most magical blue. The walk was the culmination of our longing. I stared into her eyes. I stepped in poop, I said.
(Untitled)
The doorbell rang and I opened it and I could tell she was angry and I said, What did I do this time? and she said, You don’t text me enough.
(Untitled)
There was a riot here yesterday, an attempt at good gone bad, and within the violence, we found each other and made a plan, so bad went good.
