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Eleanor Jun 27
Baby says its too cold to eat soup on the porch or in the garden
Its so hot out here, and it’s Sunday! Where’s the mercy she craves?
What is a craving, a need for a bowl of soup?
Release the meat! The sausage is to be sliced and put in the oven!
Cooking is the creation of soup, or is soup the creation of cooking?
Or...both? A dependent relationship, like the Moon and the Sun.
She stumbled on a loose board.
Reaching for a spoon, it fell on the woman’s toe, bounced, just out of reach.
She looked across the house, and through the open window that had a great display of vast sky and tangible green grass frolicking in familiar motions.
Hair! A brush!
When was the last time she had bathed or rinsed?
2 months? No, 1. Feels like 4. Or 5.
He never loved her enough to stay.
He collected their pollinated, breathing seeds and with motion toward the road, left.
Then right.
Then left.
Then right.
Then...right, was it?
Or maybe left.
He definitely did that. She remembers every day since.
With the grass, to brown leaves, to frozen feet of soil, to wet puddles, and back.
And every year after that.
Eleanor Apr 15
The difference of a summer now and then
But it's not so sad you cry, it’s not too sweet you ache, it’s not so new it’s free, but, it’s there, and you do feel it,
like the sun touching the ancient ground,
the sky clearing and joining back together in dark fluffy clouds,
The time for rainbows and naps, a time for sandboxes and strollers,
But that time is not now,
There is a time for crying, a time for your first smiling, for dressing up and goodbye-ing,
But, that time is not now.
Eleanor Apr 15
There is a diagonal breeze blushing the sides of your uncovered, sleeveless arms, the air is soft and it's lightly warm, and it dances on your forearm and skin, just like the beams of sunlight that would frolic on your thighs under the water of a swimming pool
Eleanor Apr 15
The best medicine for me
One deck
One porch
Front and back
The south and north
East and west
Eleanor Apr 15
  Only means
    So much to me
Rain by Soko is a beautiful song
Eleanor Mar 18
The amount of pain you give to me is equivalent to the amount of love I feel for you. This suffering of my wounds, starving heart, and bleeding flesh! Imagine! The eagle that now has an empty nest, her eyas’ all gone, do you think when my kisses leave your neck and my smell changes to mortality and monotony, that we will miss each other? I, at 16, will miss you. Everything I promised all those years, if they don’t come to pass, know I still meant them when I said them. Your hand will be in mine, forever 16, when we are 32, and your body isn't near. Kiss your children’s heads and remember what we were going to name our's. Don’t hesitate to call me. The 16 year old is waiting, but I no longer am. Remember me! Please! Remember me! I’m screaming, clawing, begging! There she is. Call me?
A thought from one love to their ever existing first love. They no longer see or speak with one another, but fragments of the past come back to each lover about the other when living their present reality.
  Feb 20 Eleanor
what do you want?

the money
the fame
the ***?

the name
the brains
and a heavy pay-check?

do you want the lies
the rage
the meaningless objects?

or can you tell
it is a facade
to shame
your intellect?
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