Feb 11, 2012

it isn't hate, i suppose, just the hot temper and surge of being forlorn.

it isn't hopelessness, just fear of pain and of dealing pain.

the world is a strange, unspeakable place. i make myself a blanket. one short stitch at a time.

the things i long for are too hard to name (though i know exactly what they are). i have their textures close at hand. the colors i love best are tucked deep in my heart and folded against my eyelids. certain voices have nailed themselves in side my ear. there are days when their deep purr is all i hear and all i care to hear.

7 comments:

Elisabeth said...

Exquisite and poignant writing, Angels. Thankyou.

Radish King said...

Or darling Angela yes.
love,
Rebecca

angela simione said...

elisabeth, thank you!!!!! :) so glad you like this!

angela simione said...

rebecca, thank you love!!! <3 i'm so thankful you continue to read here.

Kelly Simione said...

How is it that you can so eloquently express the things I can't seem to put into words...? You're amazing!

angela simione said...

thank you, sweet sister of mine. glad to see you 'round these parts! :)

Kelly Simione said...

I figured it was about time to get back to that blog I started in 2009, lol!