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Purgatory - Sunday, Feb. 10, 2019
Wednesday, Dec. 29, 2004 @ 8:50 pm
It reminds me of the morning - the clear, cold morning, the steam rising from the bog - that I brought you with me out among the blueberries and the labrador tea. I crushed labrador tea leaves between my fingers and held it out for you to smell. You couldn't smell it, even though the medicinal spicey oils had infused deeply into my fingers.
You followed me as I knelt around the fairy rings. My labrador tea fingers around my beloved camera, and I press the shutter to gather the mushrooms in megapixels.
What did I do then, to be in love with you, to adore your every atom of being?
Things are irrepairable... disrepair... dispair... I miss you.
It's a dream, a nightmare, a wild imaginary situation that ignites my very core of loving emotion. Who should I choose to love? Is there a choice left to make?
I sketched you in the thick amber candlelight. I drew you out in charcoals while you read aloud to me. I traced your tattoos onto your paper arms and brushed your bearded papery face. The room was so warm and thick with the orange light I nearly drowned in the headiness of it all.
You overwhelm me too. I am wary and weak around you. Someone remains in my head despite your roses and kisses. Somone... I think I made a mistake... will I be able to admit it to you? Does it even matter anymore?