Love Suffers All Things
He hit me where I wouldn’t bruise
thinking, I suppose, that unseen
damage did not exist. Blessed are
those who believe without seeing,
the voice on the other end of the line,
a line being whatever you need --
something to save you by pulling
you back to shore, white powder
that takes you away from your pain,
a rope with which you can strangle
yourself. Do you love this line? Because
you will hear it over and over. Please
forgive me, I am sorry. If you think
this is me, you are wrong. I have
never been hit where it doesn’t show.
Michelle's Spell of the Day
"One can never know for sure what a deserted area looks like." George Carlin
Cocktail Hour
Drinking music suggestion: Where The Faces Shine Iggy Pop
Benedictions and Maledictions
Happy Monday!
10 comments:
i have suffered, because of love
I think you're right. It always shows.
There is no such thing as unseen damage, if no one else sees it the wearer of the damage and bringer of the damage always will.
And even when it shows people only choose to see what they want.
as george would say: FUCK! :(
Just remember, the Son of a bitch has to sleep sometime.
I once met a woman from Florida, who was living in Northern New Mexico. I ask her how she had ended up living at her current location, she replied that her Exhusband stated, if he could not have her, no one could, and that he really meant it. After being abused one to many times she proceeded to stab him with a kitchen knife multiple times,27 was the number I think, and the bastard lived. That is why She ended up in New Mexico.
You can always change your situation, one way or the other.
Cheri, that is a great point about people seeing what they want to see, I seem to be in trouble all the time for being to direct and telling it like it really is, instead of painting a rosey picture.
If one does not like the answer, don't ask the freaking question.
Chris,
Well put- if you really don't want to know, then don't ask! So simple!!!!!!
Life should be simple.
We, make it complicated and then we, can't handle the truth.
I like this poem. I have one on the same subject, but a little more cryptic:
Honey, Nobody'll Know the Difference
Navy blue, almost black, was the color
of her dress. In the light, it was blue
to half who responded, and black
to the other half. She wore black
pumps eventhough the dress was blue,
knowing that, in all probability, half
those surveyed would see a black
dress. Those who saw blue, it seemed
only logical, would swear her pumps
were blue, or the dress and pumps
shades of blue or black. Theoretically,
at any given time, she would be black
or blue. A statistically infinitesimal few,
not worth noting, saw black and blue.
We drive on a parkway and park on a driveway.--George Carlin
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