yearn for the moisture that remains upon my lips, grab me and suck me dry.
I often wonder how I got here. How, why and when did I screw up? Nothing lasts, how long until what I have is gone?
If I knew then what I know now, how would I be different? I go to bed every night and wake up with the same thought and idea… It all happens for a reason, don’t dwell on what you can not change and try to focus on what you can change. How? How do I get out of this? I continue to find cheap get out plans and find myself sobbing hours later because “I know better”.
I’ve begun to doubt my “knowing better”, my insecurity downs me.
Let the rain kiss you. Let the rain beat upon you head with silver liquid drops. Let the rain sing you a lullaby.
Many years ago, people used to cook over an open flame using copper kettles and iron pots. The copper kettles were usually polished after every use whereas the iron pots were not and remained blackened from the soot from previous cookings. Well someone got the idea that if the iron pot were alive and it looked at a nearby copper kettle, it would see a black image. The iron pot believes it sees the image of the copper kettle when in reality, because the copper kettle was polished, what the iron pot was seeing was a reflection of itself. This symbolic phrase became associated with hypocrisy. An accuser blames someone else for having a fault when the accuser has the same fault.
If her dreams of romance were diamonds, she could make Tiffany’s window look like a dark cellar at midnight.
I feel like I’m living the life of a Soap actress, without the money
Pinhole Negative, Cyanotype