What happens when you hurt the one you love the most?
Morning on my back and steam on my face.
It hurt to remember; it was worse to forget. The singular moment of solace was that surrounded by voices, held by nothing but harmony.
I promise them it won't be much longer--three weeks more, and then hills, cold, quickened pulse, thickened blood. They punish me anyway, for keeping them in one place so long.
"The thirst is quenched, the hunger gone, And my heart is cracked across; My face is haggard in the glass, My lips are withered with a kiss."
"How can you say such terrible things about me...you don't even know me...but when your son is caught doing the same things, you say it's nobody's business?"
May all my days, both singly and in their final totality, end thus.
A little piece of me I'm not proud of wonders if it isn't right. But I love them enough to be wrong about it.
On June 10, I will be riding from NYCtoGSC via bicycle for searchandstate, this blog will be my means of documentation