July 7, 2012: Loving Her. CWE 279

It’s these lyrics that keep running through my head but the song hasn’t been written yet. They wake me from black sleep, and I carry her in my pockets like memories of a trip to Paris, which is somewhere I haven’t been. There are so many stones in my pocket that I wear my pants at my ankles. She’s this candle on the windowsill with a snow white wick and my fingers are warm. An apple in my stomach that I will eat at my desk tomorrow morning. It’s like this to love her. I am weary with love and I slept the soundest sleep last night in my black bedroom. Singing birds woke me when the night was still on its knees. I did not want to shoot them like I normally do because they were singing the song that I sing in my head. That’s what it’s like, loving her. It’s like birdsong, singing a song that hasn’t been written, in a black bedroom in a blue night.

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2 thoughts on “July 7, 2012: Loving Her. CWE 279

  1. I had a half a mind to stay silent because your writing is so unaffected that one doesn’t really wish to make their presence felt. On the other hand, I have to tell you are driving me mad with envy at some of the impossible phrases you manage to coin and the things you notice.

    • Thank you so much. You are very, very kind. As you can probably see, I have about seven followers and have received around three comments in 299 days. I may mat and frame your comment! Ha ha! Thank you again, and I look forward to reading your blog.

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