where the water meets the sand

she sells them oranges by the shore, three for a silver piece, the last they'll taste of this sweet land, before they set out east. they walk with eyes fixed to the ground, never to see her face, one by one they come and go, never to see her grace. i hear them calling me to leave, the grace thats in her hand, thats all that i have ever known, the past and its command. this restless pull to wander seas, has held me like a leash- and never till she held me close, have i ever felt released. i've held the night with a drunkards hand, i've herd the dark sirens spell, i've woke the dawn in my own blood, from the bottom of a well. in the morning light she calls to me, and holds my calloused hand, she bids me to come lay with her, where the water meets the sand.

ive been finding the most comfort in things that are tangible. pens, pages, and leather bound bindings offer me the most protection this month. maybe soon/one day/some day i will type out all of my scribbled thoughts and share them with you. but as for now, they will be the only ones i confide in.

i hope that people can love me for what i really am. for what they dont know about me, what they could know about me, and all that is secret.
i dont want a half of anything. i want a whole.
i want to know all of you.

trouble;

underlined: the sea remains the unthinkable birth and death

on a happier note,
i really love pretty stories of a boy and a girl who cannot touch. sometimes drowning yourself in a scene is okay, as long as you dont ever forget the life that brought you there.
tonight "womens poetry in france (1965-1995)" was my favorite read (thank you, lovely girl!). it was best with fuzzy bathrobes and wet, sweet smelling shower hair. ive misplaced my glasses, so my eyes were trying to squeeze the letters right off the pages! (and it worked pretty well). i have found that those numbered 33, 107, and 201 are the best for my current state of heart.
la mer reste l'impensable naissance et mort