canzone per un cuore

with the darkest night as my muse i'll write a song for you. i apologize, for this tune is far over due. no sweet melodies are soon to come, just a tempo of snaps and a little kick drum. i suggest a wooden chair, a quilted blanket and tea. just please follow the directions, bring no company. let in the air of the night, the chill should be prominent in this place, and to the man at the door, make the silence elongate his face. this succession will take place when you deem it timely. i wish you luck, for you know where i'll be.

2+2=4

to live is to thrive.

to crumble is to die.

if only we could live out all the hours in a day.

when we jump we can fly.

when we sit, they fly by.

if only we could jump off this complacent ground.

to wonder is to learn.

to expect is to burn.

if only we could wonder what will happen next.

the author who can't write.

students need books, books need to be read, red needs blue, blues need a guitar, a guitar needs to be strum, strumming needs fingers, fingers need rings, rings need to be round, rounds need to be neat, neat needs to be upheld, upholding anything needs effort, effort needs to be consistent, consistency needs to be practice, practice needs to be attended, attendance needs to be tallied, tallies need to be

a picture is worth more than a blank page

we've all hear it once or twice. we know that the leaves change and the sun goes down. it's weird i guess to look at the past. to see things that were once so common, become so far from us. it's not always comfortable, but its always necessary. looking back, i see everything that i knew. an important time in my life is captured in this one picture, in that one tree branch, in these two smiles. the letters. the words, the rush, its all coming back to me. those clothes dont fit the same anymore, i've grown and so have you, into two people who we never thought we could be. i guess i'll never know if it was right to watch you slip away, but like most things, i know it had a purpose far beyond what i know.

robe.

my white robe is slouched over a hook on my door. it's ready to fall, and it can't do much more. hearts are splattered all over her cloth, one of which resembles an imperial moth. some are purple, some are green. some are simply lost in between. the belt that held it together fell, because of wind, it was forced to rebel. under it hangs robes like itself. on that hook, they'll never see a shelf. they're pink, with monkeys that dance all around. they resemble a color, the color of brown. i need to shower do they must say goodbye. they'll be back in the blink of an eye.

mission

http://www.creativewritingprompts.com/#


i found this website and i want to complete all of them, in order. if i dont do this, im okay with that, not all goals were meant to be fulfilled, but instead, they were meant to lead us in the direction we wanna be in.

Living With Eyes Closed Shut.

she worked at the market downtown. she gave the kids $2 a piece to get out of her doorway. she married young and had 3 sons. she named them john, mark and samuel. she swore she'd never regret her wild nights. she cooked and cleaned to impress the neighbors. she spent her money on clothes, vacations and her kids. she knew they'd leave her eventually, and tried to prolong their time together. she woke up every morning to a cold shower and a hot cup of coffee. she died of old age 4 months after she turned 93. and although she learned and taught alot, she never knew love.

It didn't begin with a sweaty 3-2-1. It began haphazardly and mistaken.

mom - Rachel, make sure you pack enough clothes, it's a whole weekend!"
rachel - Okay whatever.
(exit mom)
rachel - yeah this will do
(throws random shirts into bag)


sitting in a folding chair. the bottom turning cold, itching me to stand..oh how how he speaks to us.
the man said 3-2-1. and he said follow me.