(no subject)

[correctiveshoes621]

Once upon a time, I didn't care what people thought.

When one is young and reasonably adorable, one could spout poetry all the live-long fucking day and let magic flow from one's fingers onto the most unlikely of surfaces - the walls of a basement, the bark of a fallen tree, the surface of a denim jacket, the peeling boards of an abandoned garage.

Effortlessly, casting spells in my wake, wherever I went.

I can still see the morning sunlight on the cracking cement of our back steps down on eighth avenue. Still, broken glass, transformed into diamonds, in the moonlit alleys. Still, I can remember being afraid of nothing and no one..after all, life was limitless, and myself? Immortal.

The moon, the stars, above, have not changed, and for that one last simple truth, I am grateful.

Comments

[mercystars.livejournal.com]

You're still a poet tho.

[distantnoises.livejournal.com]

Youth has nothing to do with it. You are still adorable and still a poet. No, we are not immortal, we never were, we just know it now. But honey, life is still limitless and wonder is still all around us. You just have to drop the weights you've picked up over the years and let yourself see it.