type slowly.

on empty stomach.

Posted in words by Lara Crombie on December 11, 2009

First love is like last love and never lasts save for a dull step in a series of beats that reminds us of the heart and its serious methodical way, the way it performs in arenas where the audience is comprised of hands (that hold hands to occupy hands since they don’t care for pockets) and legs (that bend to please) and eyes (that watch while) mouths shout “encore!” even as the curtain falls; last love humors insight as we search for meaning in oatmeal but add sugar before the taste settles.

ADDENDUM: this is kind of lame. i’m self-imposing a one glass limit on weeknight wine. might revise, might not. i’ll let the “taste settle” (is it douchey to reference your own writing within your writing?).


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