Thursday, September 2, 2010

tears at seventhirty*

dream places,
like all fragile things,
are always best
in winter

when the sun is low
and shadows long.

when shallow breaths
taste the chill air
laced with cinnamon
and fire

and delicately

is the only way
to hold anything.

like old china tea cups
and christmas tree baubles.
(the painted glass kind.)

and hearts
of course.
hearbreaking moment at thesoupkitchen this evening. actually, i take that back. it was heartwarming. inspiring, even. aaand i baked delicious scones.-turns out there's hope yet. having the weirdest moment looking back to how this day started.and transformed into joy. feels like it may be ending the same way though. aaaaand now. i must go wash my hair (ughhhh..) no more avoiding it. we were like sisters. but haven't seen her in... forever. nine am: reunite. i have to be in a z-card shoot to save her education.

enchantedhappy xoxo

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