Rooted, I used to think.

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Purgatory - Sunday, Feb. 10, 2019
Day Fifteen - Saturday, Feb. 09, 2019
Day Fourteen - Saturday, Feb. 09, 2019
Day Thirteen - Thursday, Feb. 07, 2019
Atonement - Thursday, Feb. 07, 2019

Sunday, Jan. 23, 2005 @ 11:08 pm
Prickly Pear

Who thinks that it is spring? The ground softens and green things grow again. Green, my jealous heart - but it softens too. My heart has loosened into a flip-flopping fish floundering on the firm seashore. What used to be cold (to them) has released into tonic highs and acid lows.

I wonder where this will go. It's so different. The prickly pear that we shared one evening... spiny on the outside - spines that we both fought to remove from our fingers for days - but the red juice he licked from his half of the fruit stained our lips for only seconds. His eyes and mine both wide from the new flavour and surprising texture. In the morning I woke, and he told me later that my first stumbled dawn-words were "Prickly pear".

For now, I stand beside you, at the edge of the stage.

Roots | Shoots