aosid's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- - half-melted snowbanks, deep hidden notes of warmth on the breeze. two a.m. i stare daggers at my eyelids. for once it's not a litany of my fears pinning me conscious against the night. i see a progression of blisses to come, concrete and hypothetical and so untouchably close my chest bursts as each presents itself. there are cherries from the lake, pounds of them, cool and sharp, deep honest blood-colored. there is the river that will caress my nerves whip-like into a frenzy, half a carnival half a riot, with its endless thirst for heat. there is the pure quiet blue of saturday mornings when i will be king of the market and no one will know. there is the majesty and the heartbreak of the august sun's swansongs. and maybe you're there, one of you strangers who keep me awake with little more than your name and a memory of your fingers woven with mine. 1:16 a.m. - 2014-03-09 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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