Here is a poem by Terica.
I found this on Streetlight Diaries.
Very, very interesting, see what you think.
Parachutes.
Last night I took a few long moments with 6 lighted globes and someone who thinks that maybe it's just time for me to forget. A while later I was carried home in disillusion; not knowing what I wanted to say or think, but being okay with doing neither just yet.
Then I had a dream.
I had a fever, then I had a dream that I couldn't get home. And that you said you wouldn't hold my hands on Mondays. When I woke up I thought you were there. But it was only last night's 6 colours in my eyes. And as my fever broke so did the dawn and I remembered that it was Thursday. So I reached and hoped that the wind had not taken you away.
Something has changed as of this morning. Something is over and I am not sad. At times I write with a pen as sharp as your stabbing knifes. Other times I try to dull your blades with a confusing paragraph or made-up word. At all times, I find, the truth is the hardest of sentences to post. I can't compete with anyone. I won't. And if that means losing pieces of some of you, then well I am constantly moving on, moving past. And it is time to forget. We are all quite difficult to love, this "group," and I probably the hardest of us all. Yet our long moments have yet to written, and our anxieties...
Then I had a dream.
I had a fever, then I had a dream that I couldn't get home. And that you said you wouldn't hold my hands on Mondays. When I woke up I thought you were there. But it was only last night's 6 colours in my eyes. And as my fever broke so did the dawn and I remembered that it was Thursday. So I reached and hoped that the wind had not taken you away.
Something has changed as of this morning. Something is over and I am not sad. At times I write with a pen as sharp as your stabbing knifes. Other times I try to dull your blades with a confusing paragraph or made-up word. At all times, I find, the truth is the hardest of sentences to post. I can't compete with anyone. I won't. And if that means losing pieces of some of you, then well I am constantly moving on, moving past. And it is time to forget. We are all quite difficult to love, this "group," and I probably the hardest of us all. Yet our long moments have yet to written, and our anxieties...
Nothing more than a couple crunchy leafs blown in by a bitter wind.
Be careful of falling parachutes, it's only a matter of time before someone changes your life.
Erica Martin.
Be careful of falling parachutes, it's only a matter of time before someone changes your life.
Erica Martin.
