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Sleepsghostlight wrote
on November 5th, 2009 at 06:35 pm
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Eyes deep; hazel oubliette.

Her scarf high, my pinion; knight and lady.

There's a girl for whom I have an ache, and she reminds me of the castle I have become. Stone pillar irremovable but apart from the farms and cottages ringing it, overlooking the fields of life and considering the vines that struggle up its impassive body. Perhaps that metaphor is a bit much, but the idea I believe is conveyed.

She tells me I'm sweet, and cute, and that she doesn't know why any girl would not want to be with me. When she's drunk, that I'm hot. I can tell that I'm getting older, "wiser", because the knowledge that she's entrenched in her current boyfriend creeps across any feelings those sayings might elicit - her world so depends on him that being without him is simply inconceivable to her. It reminds me of myself at that age, and provokes a melancholic sepia smile with no trace of real sadness.

Life is still a fragile dance some nights.

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Girls with boyfriends will eat your soul and not even notice.

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