it is august again when it rains like this. swift and lyrical. dramatic in how it creates two different strains of music when it falls on the garden and on the backyard.
it is august again when i sit up another night, wading through words in my gmail, yahoo and a stack of old poems on an abandoned blog.
it is august again when i look for you in words, in wasted moments when you stood by the carpark, waiting.
it is august again when i walk back on our sidewalks, stand in the carpark while the drizzle falls races on my face through the fragmented sky, cut by the tall twin buildings.
it is august again, when i decide to leave pages in my diary blank a whole month because you've run out of things to say.
-
on what life meant to make out of faith
-
Mamu touched my hair the other day and said: This is not the hair of the girl I birthed. What did you do to your hair? I touched my hair, im... -
i cannot imagine how you put up with a man who drags you by your nape and tells you to go to your room and puts you out in the night. it...
No comments:
Post a Comment