Posted at 9:00 am
“Wait for me under the third lamppost,” he begged her. “I’ll meet you there at midnight and we’ll start a new life. Just you and me.”
He was late, bruised ribs trying to cripple him, but he was there. She just wasn’t.
The minutes ticked by, etched into his soul like the cuts were on his skin. One hour, two. He burned through an entire pack, growing gray and bitter, kept rooted by dimming hope.
A voice startled him, amused and chilling. Not the one he was waiting for. “You shouldn’t have waited,” she stayed just out of the lamp light. “I don’t blame you, but you shouldn’t have.”
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Posted at 9:00 am
Don’t ever think you’re alone here,
We’re just trapped in different hells,
And people aren’t against you dear,
They’re just all for themselves.
There’s a scene in Shakespeare in Love (1998) when Viola (played by Gwyneth Paltrow) is sitting in her room reading through the newly completed, hand written script of Romeo and Juliet. There are tears in her eyes and she’s so engrossed in the story that she doesn’t notice her nurse coming and going or her dinner tray arriving or leaving. Granted, within the context of the movie, that script was more than a story. It was her life, written out in poetry.
That scene is me with almost any book of poems. The physical world around me falls away while beautifully arranged words lull me into a place within myself that I can’t reach any other way. A place that’s a little bit calm, a little bit sad, full of knowing smiles, reawakened memories and a quiet understanding that there, in that moment, everything is okay. I read novels to live lives I would never otherwise be able to. I read short stories and essays for different perspectives and to create a wider understanding of my own world. I read poetry for escape. Continue reading
Posted at 12:32 pm
Date a girl who reads. Date a girl who spends her money on books instead of clothes. She has problems with closet space because she has too many books. Date a girl who has a list of books she wants to read, who has had a library card since she was twelve.
Find a girl who reads. You’ll know that she does because she will always have an unread book in her bag. She’s the one lovingly looking over the shelves in the bookstore, the one who quietly cries out when she finds the book she wants. You see the weird chick sniffing the pages of an old book in a second hand book shop? That’s the reader. They can never resist smelling the pages, especially when they are yellow.
She’s the girl reading while waiting in that coffee shop down the street. If you take a peek at her mug, the non-dairy creamer is floating on top because she’s kind of engrossed already. Lost in a world of the author’s making. Sit down. She might give you a glare, as most girls who read do not like to be interrupted. Ask her if she likes the book. Continue reading