When you contemplate art, you rest your hand against your cheek and run your fingers through your hair. You would think of messages and decipher stories out of marble and acrylics. I've asked you why you had to reason everything you see, and you placed your hand against my cheek and left me because you can.
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Saturday, April 5, 2014
The Fear of Opening
When I was showing you my past,
I wasn't opening old scars,
I was just showing you how I got them
in the first place.
in the first place.
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