Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Somehow you remain

I want to pretend that it is still November
so I don't have to be brave
and I am not making mistakes
I'm tripping, and hitting my head, and spilling,
and I know its all because
none of this is right,
and blame myself for bringing it up in the first place.

I hope no one in Honduras minds that I'm going to cry when I read his letters.

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Life's for livin' child, can't you see?