the move
Sadnesspeace.
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Letter to a strangerHello Miss.Letter to a stranger
There is a girl in Chicago I write to and she has vanished. We write - the two of us - more than letters and IMs over wine in our coffee mugs from one to the other. I hope she still does, though she refuses to let me have a look at them, and I have stopped asking. And me, I still try. But I miss our conversations. And to get my head out of the myriad reasons she may have had for her disappearance - I have no way of knowing, I don't even know her face, I need someone, a stranger. For conversations, confessions and all that in between, and yes, for her reasons too that I cannot know.
From one into another -
by ~warytransgressor
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...öte`den`beri`siz, öte beri siz...
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I suppose this is me slowly dying,
smearing myself against you, against the words I write,
leaving little bits like bright red Christmas presents,
moist and smelling like old iron artillery.
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-CV
Fortune Favors the Bold
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You Oxymoron
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Lol, He's Red.
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I’ve committed the cardinal sin of loving you too much
in my way of not enough.
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