Shaun
It feels like a piercing physical wound; to see her leave me again.
I cannot access the part of me that handles realisation. Serena called her Ashleigh. That child in her arms. Is mine.
My forehead is resting on the edge of the hard granite countertop, and I am trying to ignore the card that is currently lying right in front of me. I already know what is printed on it by heart.
Serena Meyer
Gaurdian Ad Litem, New York.
serenashleigh@mweb.com
And then a number scrawled on in her own handwriting.
**************************************************
Her eyes haunt me when I close my own. Everything I see reminds me of her.
Irony; isn't it, when the one thing Ты absolutely need to survive is within your physical grasp but Ты cannot have it? Isn't it some kind of 'destiny' rule that means Ты always land up with the one person right for Ты and it's all Цветы and daisies from then on?
I have a three год old daughter that I have never met before although I knew she existed. Not specifically 'she', but Ты get the point.
What kind of excuse for a human being am I?
I touch the single picture I have kept of her, stroking her collarbone with my index finger. She has a scar directly below there. A pale, four-inch gash that she got in a car crash when she was fifteen. Involuntarily, the memory overcomes me.
"What's that?" I ask her, tracing the length of the scar.
"Just a souveneir from a car crash. I was fifteen," she says nonchalantly, refusing to let go. Her arms are wrapped around my waist. We are sitting on her bed. Her head is resting on ny shoulder, her long hair cascading down my shoulder blade. Her distinct smell of lilacs is tantalising me.
That was the first time I told her I loved her.
It feels like a piercing physical wound; to see her leave me again.
I cannot access the part of me that handles realisation. Serena called her Ashleigh. That child in her arms. Is mine.
My forehead is resting on the edge of the hard granite countertop, and I am trying to ignore the card that is currently lying right in front of me. I already know what is printed on it by heart.
Serena Meyer
Gaurdian Ad Litem, New York.
serenashleigh@mweb.com
And then a number scrawled on in her own handwriting.
**************************************************
Her eyes haunt me when I close my own. Everything I see reminds me of her.
Irony; isn't it, when the one thing Ты absolutely need to survive is within your physical grasp but Ты cannot have it? Isn't it some kind of 'destiny' rule that means Ты always land up with the one person right for Ты and it's all Цветы and daisies from then on?
I have a three год old daughter that I have never met before although I knew she existed. Not specifically 'she', but Ты get the point.
What kind of excuse for a human being am I?
I touch the single picture I have kept of her, stroking her collarbone with my index finger. She has a scar directly below there. A pale, four-inch gash that she got in a car crash when she was fifteen. Involuntarily, the memory overcomes me.
"What's that?" I ask her, tracing the length of the scar.
"Just a souveneir from a car crash. I was fifteen," she says nonchalantly, refusing to let go. Her arms are wrapped around my waist. We are sitting on her bed. Her head is resting on ny shoulder, her long hair cascading down my shoulder blade. Her distinct smell of lilacs is tantalising me.
That was the first time I told her I loved her.
Hey, so this is a poem Ive been thinking of for a long time,please read and comment!
The Spirit
The spirit rushes on,
Swifter than the wind,
To find answers,
To seek the way.
The spirit flows on,
Like the river.
Flowing on to find the ocean,
A Главная for all its dreams.
The spirit shines on,
Brighter than a thousand suns.
Shining on to clear the darkness,
To find the path.
The spirit lives on,
еще eternal than the sea,
Living on to find its home,
Where all the ends shall meet.
The Spirit
The spirit rushes on,
Swifter than the wind,
To find answers,
To seek the way.
The spirit flows on,
Like the river.
Flowing on to find the ocean,
A Главная for all its dreams.
The spirit shines on,
Brighter than a thousand suns.
Shining on to clear the darkness,
To find the path.
The spirit lives on,
еще eternal than the sea,
Living on to find its home,
Where all the ends shall meet.