whoa. 85?

that's a lot of posts. even though half of them are unpublished

if i unfolded a love note;

one of the four i have

in a box that is full;

one you wrote in that beautiful

language i never understood 

but read like a joke to humor you,

all the images of the long way home,

the rock at the park and the way you say

i had already won you over

when i wrote you that song, when

porcelain trees and the end of autumn

i know it sounds absolutely crazy,

but my ears would disable temporarily,

and i would lose any trace of your sweet song

within the audacity of my blocked path,

every kiss each word tries to represent

betrays the tongue i speak in,

smolders at the cinders on my lips,

i never wanted to harm you with guilt

i never wanted these stilts that i walk on

so high and far off, hold on? 

i will try, and i won't fly off, but

i find it the hardest thing i've ever done.

grace

by popular demand, i decided to do an analysis of this here song. it is entitled Grace by Sampson's Azaleas. i wrote it btw. lawl.

"satellites and shooting stars
they look the same from where we are"


we may be in two different places, but the things in the sky still look the same.


but opposite maps are drawn into our dreams
with several inches in between points "a" and "b"


...but the fact of the matter is, we're actually a fuck ton of hours apart.  we think about it, and dream about it, luckily enough, the parallel maps are drawn into our dreams, one towards me, one towards you.

the snow and the green
your heart and me


...so much so that where i am, it is snowing, and where you are it's green. and also, that's the distance between your heart and me.
these state lines melt between our eyes
despite their space and blinding exit signs


distance doesn't matter for anything.  even though we're constantly made to realize that statelines are a long ways away and the exit signs are taunting us.

the spark of grace, leaves airways in up in fire
and lines lips up like runway lights


and the spark of grace, being able to hear you or see you leaves my lungs burning, arid, dry. much like a spark is very quick and sudden, it ignites fire almost instantaneously. as quickly as it's insignificance came, you dissapeared and left me in flames. and it lines our lips up like runway lines, possibly to suggest an airline departure.

but they dim within this plight
my heart is as dark as wide


but our anger and dissapointment dim out within this unfortunate situation, because my heart is so wide, stretching all this distance between us, and it is filled with an equal amount of darkness without you.
i effortlessly pass through like a ghost
and in your heart, i feel my skin grow cold


without you, i feel like i'm just floating away, because their's nothing i can do. and i leave this mark on your heart, and without me there, i can feel your heart lose the warmth of my touch.

dust, it raises up along the road
you feet kick it up around my soul


perspective switch. ... and although it loses the warmth of your touch, dust raises up along the road you walk... your feet kick up all that we have done together up around me soul, and it makes me happy.

and the place i will not go
your arms, they are my home


perspective switch and this place that i am forced to go to, i will not have to some day, because your arms are my real home.

i hear it in your voice
when you can't even whisper goodbye


i hear this pain in your voice, when your lungs hurt so badly because you hate that word... goodbye.

with arid, aching lungs
and foreign flood land eyes


your lungs, still in pain, and you rarely cry, but it's everywhere. your tears. 

my love, you must not cry,
for my heart cannot take much more tonight


but please don't cry... the pain in separation already hurts me.
and love, be not afraid...
i am with you, i am with you
and love, do not be afraid
i am with you, i am with you

i am with you, always.


so please don't be afraid of anything, because no matter where i am, i am with you always.