On Torment
'Ailina on Love : May 12th, 2008
Shock wears off. Begin to compartmentalize and temporarily deny, maintaining strict borders and proximity.
Highs are really high, until a feather comes along and knocks the wind out of you, kicks you to the ground where you’re scrambling to put your head back together while searching for your mouth.
Ripped up the garden of all old briars and new. Resurfaced the entire landscape, but weeds keep popping up–the dark, black hidden kind that no one knew about except the one who planted them. They won’t go away unless they take their pounds of flesh with them. We both wonder if we have that much flesh to part with.
