As a person who does love using the F word when passionately explaining something or during exuberant dialogue and exciting times… I do say it… Frequently but not often. That’s a thing. I’m seeing how much saying fuck is blatantly accepted when at times it’s terribly inappropriate and actually feels hurtful. Just me? Mind you
In my sadness I cleaned the junk drawer. Already on the brink of madness and despair, I’m nearly pushed over the edge when I received a call from a delivery service saying the flowers were left on my front step. The spark of wonder lasted a fraction of a millisecond, then settled into dread. I
Such a voyeur, you beautiful moon. Prying your eye through windows reflecting doors of perception. I could feel you watching, even if I was blindfolded by my own imagination. The super moon out my window. Copyright ©️2017 ArtemisOnFire
That place. I need to go there. To see what it’s like, what secrets it holds in the mist, what whispers I can’t hear through all of this noise… That place. Where is it? My soles know the way. Tingling with remembrance long before bare feet touch the path, soul open, mind erased… That place.
If I came to life as a flower, or maybe when I was… I’d see myself as a Peony. By far my favorite flower. Somehow writing that makes it sound full of ego, let’s say it’s the heavy dosing of self-love. Indeed I’d be a pink Peony, the color my eyes see as love, for