You know what Emo N! Maybe we could draw hearts up and down our arms to make up for the ones inside that seem to be mere
shadow-organs. Maybe we could put cotton balls in jars, like in
doctor`s offices, and call them 'clouds', and then we`d always have a piece of our imaginary sky on our shelves. (Maybe we`d even add a pinch of silver glitter, for the stars, because the real ones are too high to reach). Maybe we could go to someone else`s party and whisper to each other in the corner, and we`d try to
be the prettiest wallflowers there. (You could be a tulip, and I could be an orchid). Maybe we could go door-to-door and try to sell candles with burned black wicks, and when people would reject them, we could say, 'but these are the
prettiest, because they`ve already glowed once.'. Maybe we could re-invent valentine`s day candy to
say phrases like 'broken' and 'gone' because they would be easier to believe than 'I love you' and 'be
mine' and 'forever'. (We are realists or at least I like to think so). Maybe we could wait for a midnight thunderstorm and watch the lightning strikes from the porch stairs, and when the rain got to be loud enough, we could stand beneath it and scream our lungs out. Maybe we could make pictures with too-wet watercolors, and we`d draw hands and hearts, and
the paint would bloom and the two would bleed and blend until the entire paper just looked like a
splotchy splat. (And it would be beautiful anyway). Maybe we could stand on the beach, right where the
water lapped up to touch our feet, and we could let our souls leave our bodies for a little while. We`d just
be shells of pale skin planted like mannequins in the sand, but it would be so pretty, because we`d be free....
shadow-organs. Maybe we could put cotton balls in jars, like in
doctor`s offices, and call them 'clouds', and then we`d always have a piece of our imaginary sky on our shelves. (Maybe we`d even add a pinch of silver glitter, for the stars, because the real ones are too high to reach). Maybe we could go to someone else`s party and whisper to each other in the corner, and we`d try to
be the prettiest wallflowers there. (You could be a tulip, and I could be an orchid). Maybe we could go door-to-door and try to sell candles with burned black wicks, and when people would reject them, we could say, 'but these are the
prettiest, because they`ve already glowed once.'. Maybe we could re-invent valentine`s day candy to
say phrases like 'broken' and 'gone' because they would be easier to believe than 'I love you' and 'be
mine' and 'forever'. (We are realists or at least I like to think so). Maybe we could wait for a midnight thunderstorm and watch the lightning strikes from the porch stairs, and when the rain got to be loud enough, we could stand beneath it and scream our lungs out. Maybe we could make pictures with too-wet watercolors, and we`d draw hands and hearts, and
the paint would bloom and the two would bleed and blend until the entire paper just looked like a
splotchy splat. (And it would be beautiful anyway). Maybe we could stand on the beach, right where the
water lapped up to touch our feet, and we could let our souls leave our bodies for a little while. We`d just
be shells of pale skin planted like mannequins in the sand, but it would be so pretty, because we`d be free....
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