Memoirs

Some things anchored; some things sailed.

…and matters neither created nor destroyed.

In pieces, yet all at peace.

Weed makes you forget, the irony.

Two red roses, one amber rose.

Hiding Place

Sometime's I go to the lake cus it just seems like the place to go. It can be tittie-sweating hot or nose-running cold and I still go and sit on that dirty blue bench. Relaxed and belonging.. I talk to God. Sometimes, I curse him. When I'm angry, I cry..in broad daylight. In pieces, yet all at peace. I'm pretty sure I look crazy out there by myself talking(praying) and I used to pick up my phone and pretend I was on a phonecall but now I just smile, sometimes wave, other times speak, and continue on. When I finish unpacking my heart, I just sit. I like to watch the ripples of waves dance in the water and the trees laugh. I like to watch the bees buzz around me flying from flower to flower ….and matters neither created nor destroyed; for what they took from one flower became their harvest, that became my favorite thing to put on biscuits that became my favorite thing to call someone I love. Some days it would start to rain while I sat at the lake and I would think to myself how beautiful, maybe I should stay a while longer. But then I reason with myself that Ive watched too many movies, and it's best that I leave. So I leave. Some things anchored; some things sailed.