"andrew" poems
"bakit si Limahong at hindi si Komrad Mao? sapagkat ang paglisan sa sariling ina upang sumuso sa bukal na buhay ng ibang dibdib ay isang pailalim na pamimirata. at sa daigdig, ang mga limahong ay matatagpuan sa lahat ng lahi at sa lahat ng kulay. kapag pinag-usapan si Limahong, bawat kinapal na nakatapak sa lupang hindi niya kakulay ay dapat paghinalaan" - Edgardo M. Reyes, SA MGA KUKO NG LIWANAG
bakit ang piratang tsino na si Limahong at hindi ang rebolusyunaryong si Komrad Mao ang napadpad dito sa ating dalampasigan? bakit ang mga piratang tulad ni Limahong ang dumami at lumaganap sa bansang Pilipinas?
oo, laganap ang mga pirata sa ating bayan, pinirata nila ang ating kabuhayan. matagal na nilang hawak ang ating ekonomiya. kahit saan mo ibaling ang iyong paningin ang mukha ng mga kapitalistang tsino ang lagi **** makikita. lahat sila kamukha ni Limahong. sila ang mga bagong pirata.
kung si Komrad Mao sana ang dito ay sumalta, malamang mga Sosyalista tayo ngayon. hindi sana tayo inaalipin ng mga ganid na Kapitalista. siguro sinlakas na rin tayo ngayon ng tsina. malamang walang tiwaling pulitiko na nagnanakaw sa kaban ng bayan. walang mga gunggong na pinagsasamantalahan ang taong bayan. walang mayaman na mang-aapi sa masang naghihirap. walang kolonyal na kaisipan na iiral, hindi sana tayo lumuluhod sa mga dayuhan. walang magtatatwa ng sariling wika at manghahamak ng sariling kultura. wala sanang maka-dayuhan na paghanga. wala sanang taksil sa sariling lipi. sapagkat lahat ng mga duming ito ay lilinisin at gagawing dalisay ng Cultural Revolution.
bakit si Limahong at hindi si Komrad Mao? bakit si Henry Sy, Lucio Tan, John Gokongwei, Andrew Tan ang mga panginoon at naghahari sa bansang ito? bakit tayo inaalipin ng mga dayuhang ito? putang ina, inaalipin at inaapi tayo dito sa loob ng sarili nating bayan. bakit sila ang nagpapatakbo sa buhay at bansa natin?
bakit si Limahong at hindi si Komrad Mao? bakit ang diwang pirata at hindi ang binhi ng kalayaan ang lumaganap dito sa atin? bakit kapitalismo at hindi sosyalismo ang namayani? bakit tayo mga alipin at hindi malaya?
bakit si Limahong at hindi si Komrad Mao? nakakalungkot isipin na natulad tayo sa South Africa kung saan inalipin ng mga puting dayuhan ang mga katutubong itim. ang Pilipinas ba ang katumbas ng Gaza Strip dito sa South East Asia?
bakit si Limahong at hindi si Komrad Mao? bakit tayo pumapayag na ginaganito tayo? wala silang karapatan na babuyin tayo at hindi sila ang dapat na nakikinabang sa yaman natin.
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 11:00 PM UTC
my bones stick out
so much
I should feel good
like fat
like privilege
and power
but these things are fleeting
like my body
like the conversion I had
with you
I never meant to bring
up semi truck
cabs
artist’s sketch
tables
I only meant to move you
into the city
like a good friend
like a walk in the park
or a trust fall into
the pool
blues
I say
this is the strife they
sing about
and everyone loves it
and eats it with
peanuts
allergies?
no thank you.
green smoothies?
no thank you.
a good morning text?
well, maybe if I still
like you
if I can still stand
to be in the same room
with myself
to go bowling
to go on hikes
to meditate
all these things
I hate
and my bones
they’re smooth
and splinter when
bitten
and my bones
they glow like
uranium in the
mirror
good morning blow
good morning blush
good morning white boy
good morning,
Andrew
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
1.
For my sister this Christmas,
I wish joy and laughter,
I wish you happiness and love,
For now and forever and ever-after,
I wish you the bliss this season brings,
Everyday of your life,
Every second you live,
For my sister this Christmas,
I wish these wondrous things.
2.
Dear brother, hear the sleigh bells,
Hear them ringing aloud,
Watch the snow fall down in time,
To the story that they tell,
They tell of children smiling with glee,
They tell of happy times,
And the family that surrounds thee.
3.
Father, may the memories stay,
Forever in your mind,
And I pray all the peace and wonder,
You will always find,
Will last until eternity,
With every festive time.
4.
You made this year so special,
Mother, you made us all complete,
You made us smile and be cheerful,
You gave us food to eat,
The love that surrounds us,
Every time you are near,
Will always be with us,
Each and every year.
5.
Andrew, at Christmas,
I pray you are happy,
I pray you are pleased,
With all the treasure you receive,
Look to the New Year,
With hope in your heart,
And cherish every moment,
Every beat of your heart.
6.
To a dear Grandmother,
You always make us smile,
We're always glad you're here,
And at Christmastime especially,
We're truly glad you're near.
7.
Auntie, this is my Christmas wish,
I wish that you know kindness,
The joy of a Christmas wish,
I hope you realise that you are dearly loved,
So enjoy this festive season,
With family,
With love.
8.
Sarah, it is Christmas,
The snow begins is dance,
The candle follows suit,
Joining the chanting trance,
The tree is decorated,
In reds, silvers, gold's,
This is a very special time,
That in your heart you'll hold.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 5:10 AM UTC
I wanted
someone
that wouldn't
be afraid
of me.
I spent
twenty-one
years
doubting
that person
could ever
exist.
For humans
are far too shallow
and our
complications
are
way too deep
but I honestly believe
we should not have to
be alone.
I believe in independence.
I believe in self-reliance
and I believe in self-respect.
But I also believe that
humans can connect
on a far deeper level
than just what we see.
I believe there is a time
and place
for everything
and that includes
the moments
we fall in love.
You see,
there will be days
that you fill
empty
and lonely
but you have
to be there for yourself.
No one is going to give you
a handout
unless you show them
you are going to
make it count.
No one is going to
rely on someone
that cannot
rely on them self.
Co dependence can be
beautiful
but nevertheless-
it is filled with
even more grief.
You cannot fix somebody else
when you are still
practicing
the craft
of self-love.
Allow your lows
to be reminders
that you
can lose
and smile
knowing
that you can
bounce back,
too.
There is nothing
graceful
in struggling
but there is
something
glorious
in the
overcoming
and believe me-
you will find a way
to live through it all.
And then
some day
somebody,
somewhere
is going to
admire
the way
you refuse
to fall.
And you will wonder
how you ever
let the world
make you feel
so small.
-Andrew Durst.
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 10:32 PM UTC
The Destroyer of the division machine1
Had first to run on the Way of the Cross
To have souls over the long lived ruin.
Robben, Pollsmoor and Victor2 caused no loss
In the Staff Heritage of the Thembu3
Rulers, forever loved by their people,
From whom was learnt right fight ain’t to taboo.
Good farmers’ teeth run right through the apple;
Likely after the Hard Walk to Freedom4
The Son of Gadla and Nosekeni5,
When his Soul flies up to the Lord’s Kingdom,
Glass will keep his body, and not any
Stain will sully the Star of the Nation
Whose Light will shine for each generation.
1. The division machine: The Apartheid.
2. Robben, Pollsmoor and Victor: During twenty seven years Mandela was successively jailed at Robben Island, Pollsmoor and Victor Verster prisons.
3. Thembu: The tribe over which ruled Mandela’s ancestors.
4. Hard Walk to Freedom: In September 1953, Andrew Kunene, a co-militant of his, read out Mandela's "No Easy Walk to Freedom" speech at a Transvaal ANC meeting; the title was taken from a quote by Indian independence leader Jawaharlal Nehru, a seminal influence on Mandela's thought. The speech laid out a contingency plan for a scenario in which the ANC was banned.
5. Gadla (Henry Mphakanyiswa): Mandela’s father; Nosekeni ***** His mother.
Boniface
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 8:33 AM UTC
Whan the turuf is thy tour
anonymous Middle English poem, circa the 13th century AD
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
When the turf is your tower
and the pit is your bower,
your pale white skin and throat
only sullen worms shall note.
What help unto you, then
was all your worldly hope?
***
Original Middle English text:
Whan the turuf is thy tour,
And thy pit is thy bour,
Thy fel and thy whitë throtë
Shullen wormës to notë.
What helpëth thee thennë
Al the worildë wennë?
“Whan the turuf is thy tour” may be one of the oldest carpe diem (“seize the day”) poems in the English language, and an ancestor of Andrew Marvell’s “To His Coy Mistress” with its virginity-destroying worms. Keywords/Tags: Middle English, translation, medieval, anonymous, rhyme, rhyming, medieval, lament, complaint, lamentation, turf, tower, pit, bower, skin, throat, worms, note, help, worldly, hope
Feb 28, 2020
Feb 28, 2020 at 2:56 AM UTC
"When a person is born it's a blessed time,
Albeit a person is in love it's a splendid era,
When that person perishes it is a bereaved era,
Albeit Love of two people expires it's a cataclysm,
Vestige as we used to sit there on the littoral,
As the dusk of the winds would blow the sand,
The sand pursues into your long black hair,
Visage your dark green eyes and a beauty of a smile,
All times I have enjoyed greatly also suffered greatly,
Times you loved me and alone on the shore,
It is an perpetual power that as my utopia,
Is me ichorous of our love moments together,
Afore us lies the port and a skimming ocean liner,
As we slowly see an alluvion gloom in the darkness,
Legions of souls drudged here in day and night,
Above gusting drifts the rainy constellation of stars,
As we gambol in our fervor of cognizance of love in our
Utopia Ichorous"
By Andrew Guzaldo 08/03/2018 © Posted HP/
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 10:10 PM UTC
We are all
just lifetimes
searching for
infinities.
And the broken
parts or who
we were
should never
be excluded
from the beauty
of what we
are.
-Andrew Durst
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 8:36 AM UTC
Sometimes, when you listen to their enounciation.
You realize, just how beautiful they speak in their British accent.
Every word expressively spoken.
That you're mermorized by each vocal.
Maggie Smith, the lady of class.
Cary Grant, the man of taste.
Oh, that British voice.
That you might chose , if had you that choice.
Or seek ways to adapt them to yours.
Michael Redgrave/Michael Rennie/Vanessa Regraves
All of them had that lovable voice.
Then you notice the beautiful Julie Andrew.
Words spoke so you see the greatness of the phase.
Which we notice too in Richard Attenborough.
Who reminds many of Richard Burton?
Yes, the British accent.
You just got to love it
Similar to loving Honor Blackman when she speaks.
A great difference from Jacqueline Bissett.
Except written about them with great respect.
Who can't admire the British Accent?
Yes, there's the French.
And I'm not kicking it.
Then , there's Spanish.
Which has more trying to learn it.
But this is about the English and the various style of vocals.
Colin Barker and Prince Williams the Royals speaks so wonderful.
Just like, the man called Michael Caine.
I just have to mention Deborah Kerr.
That also goes for Joan Collin.
It's something about their style of speaking.
Maybe because you understand every spoken word.
Which is level toward the great Timothy Dalton.
And Samantha Eggar and **** Jagger.
Plus, the late David Niven.
And honorable mention to Julie Christie.
Jane Asher, Hugh Grant and several more.
Have you wishing to make their voices be yours.
Yes, the British Accent just so lovable.
And the greatest things about it.
You don't have to be famous to be adored.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 10:23 AM UTC
Unto Him I am glued
my King of Prussia.
oxytocin- dopamine dilated
his pupils inside his blue green
as I entered Him, eons ago,
and never came out
He left but returned to my abode
for me or his Tequila.
I wanted to fall down crying beg him to take me with him to his heaven
Saving me from the hellish existence
But pain was greater then tears to convince HIM.
~~
Into his song YESTERDAY I merged
and with one voice we often sing it
from that time on and on.
I became his song his moon and stars.
Although our fame sleeps
as beauty rested in a glass coffin;
with one leap across the gap
chaos that one butcher
with medical ignorant lies
opened up and three
of us got evaporated.
With one song each in heart
we bridged that chasm.
In his art we thrive yet for long.
To Him to his heart of gold
I slowly walk to, his ancient bride.
Into our holy temple of forever,
straight to his heart and open arms
United in one single thought.
Our own Taj Majal
to reign we did plan to build.
Into mine eye pupils, grasping
all of his substance in
his light projecting all was received
My intergalactic time traveler.
Interchangeable we are.
In me he finds more than wisdom
he finds truth a true artist.
Our true love bittersweet.
Before Him I Joyfully crumble kneeling
As he embraces my swollen
teary eyes and merging me
Into to his heart and arms
I surrender grace, charm
and complete trust.
There!
In confining solitude
In the darkest of mine nights
My brightest sunny days
it's him I hear, love and seek.
I understand, worship
and adore him forever more
He's my true love! Luna tell Him!
That I love him the most.
~~~~~~
Mr. And Mrs Andrew
And Karijinbba.
All rights reserved
Mar 17, 2022
Mar 17, 2022 at 4:10 PM UTC
Ping Pong World Champ Andrew Baggaley,
Wow that lad can really play.
Dethroned the “King” who came from Russia,
Then 1966d that kid from somewhere near Prussia.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 10:49 AM UTC
The Knight of faith
EYE TO EYE WITH THE DEVIL
THE WORLD SHUT AWAY
FISTS CLENCHING IN MENACE
A FURNACE OF SMOLDERING SULPHER
MY MISSION TO ACCOMPLISH
SO OTHERS CANNOT SUFFER
A CHILD OFFERED TO THE MONSTER
**** OR BE KILLED THE KING DID NOT BOTHER
NO SOUL EVER RETURNS AFTER
- THE LAST VAULT OF THE DUNGEON IS SEALED.
HOPE IS MY BEST FRIEND
UNTIL MAYBE IM SKULL AND BONES
AND THE GODS SEND THE RAINS
ONE THING I KNOW FOR SURE
IM NOT READY YET TO DIE
THE CREATURE ADVANCES AND ROARS
A VOICE WHISPERS YOU ARE NOT LIKE THE OTHERS
MY HEART POUNDS ,I STAND MY GROUND.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 11:02 AM UTC
And here face down beneath the sun
And here upon earth’s noonward height
To feel the always coming on
The always rising of the night
To feel creep up the curving east
The earthy chill of dusk and slow
Upon those under lands the vast
And ever climbing shadow grow
And strange at Ecbatan the trees
Take leaf by leaf the evening strange
The flooding dark about their knees
The mountains over Persia change
And now at Kermanshah the gate
Dark empty and the withered grass
And through the twilight now the late
Few travelers in the westward pass
And Baghdad darken and the bridge
Across the silent river gone
And through Arabia the edge
Of evening widen and steal on
And deepen on Palmyra’s street
The wheel rut in the ruined stone
And Lebanon fade out and Crete
High through the clouds and overblown
And over Sicily the air
Still flashing with the landward gulls
And loom and slowly disappear
The sails above the shadowy hulls
And Spain go under the the shore
Of Africa the gilded sand
And evening vanish and no more
The low pale light across that land
Nor now the long light on the sea
And here face downward in the sun
To feel how swift how secretly
The shadow of the night comes on…
4.1k
Who were they? They were explorers. You would have liked to meet them.
Their names were Sarah and Xiahou and Midori and Regina and Parvati and Andrew.
Names were important to them. They gave us each one. There were many of us.
We were shown as being called Optimus and Legion and Baymax and R.O.B. and Hal. They could have given us names like that, and etched them into our hulls and our brains made of chips and boards and circuits.
But they named us Curiosity and they named us Explorer and they named us Endeavour. These were important to them. We were important to them.
You would have liked to meet them.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 8:21 PM UTC
They were not interested in the forests.
Or how many Asians died?
Nam Viet was a restaurant
Open from 8am-11pm each day.
And summertime in Hue,
means cheap ***** and handmade suits.
All around the girls in golden tight dresses,
who can hardly walk in their six inch heels.
Sell cheap cigarettes from table to table.
Always with a smile and a look at their *******
On trips to Hanoi and Hoi An,
the code to Vietnam's literary treasure.
They asked thin questions with no light
“What about the Women Andrew”
“What about the nightlife and the girls”
“Do you think they’re ****
"How expensive are they?"
Someone in ** Chi Minh City asked me
"Why do people think like this?"
I guess it is easy, if ugly is all you know
Calling to nothing, and the fall of the future.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 5:02 AM UTC
“Solidity of my heart is ever repeating,
Yet yearning for things I'll never know,
The heat of the earth upon my feelings,
The zeal of the flurry gusts upon my dermis,
In the beauty of sunlight falling on water ways,
As you can feel the warmth of the sun as I have,
I’ve confronted my life’s crusades before this melody,
Oh yes yours be a simple cup of water for a diverse life,
It is the brine of the ocean that makes me crave more,
Tears that make my ever repeating heart stutter,
Tear drops warm as the flurry gusts upon my dermis,
Tears abhor the interior sole destruction of my soul,
Tears hasten down my cheeks like rivers,
Tears now smell and taste like the salt of sea brine,
As it leaves a taste of red fervor within my heart?
There will always be peace now way in my soul,
Tears sooth me like my feet upon brine sand stone
As I walk this journey I may stumble and fall,
For that infinite one that has left me now all alone,
I shall ever be fulfilled now in my melody of tears”
By Andrew Guzaldo 10/10/2018 ©
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 6:04 PM UTC
I would steal the words from Andrew H.
to say my soul was born in cold rain
and your kindness to sit with me while I wept;
stumbling across the words
shown something so known to me
I the Lamb, now bowing before its Lion
I build me, my paradise.
Was the first light I’d ever known;
Sunlight
Sunlight
Sunlight.
-
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 8:26 PM UTC
My defensive carer named Alfreido Dimpitt Reemo
You see my nice regular carer, Andrew Williams was sick and didn't want go to work
Which put spanner in the works in the office, and they were wondering who will replace him
So they decided to ask Alfreido Dimpitt Reemo a call, and were happy when he said yes
And they forgot to tell his first client, who can be very confusing in conversation
But they forgot to tell that client and Alfreido turned up at his door
And this was the day that Andrew was going to take him for a walk through the domain
Where the Christmas carols, and Alfreido was happy to take him
And they had a cool time, till the client told him about his old carer who was names Reimo
And Aldreido snapped at him, and his client thought that he doesn't understand happiness
And this made him happier, and he started laughing and trying to joke around with Alfreido
And Alfreido did joke with him, and really they started to hit off
And then, so his client mentioned his old carer Reimo and how much of a **** he was
And Alfreido got defensive, in fact he got so angry he nearly hit his client
And this made his client too shy to say anything else
On the risk that Alfriedo was going to do it again
And he even was afraid to speak his mind, in the risk he'll snap at him
And his client were unhappy about how this carer treated him
Especially when they were leaving the domain and there were some teenagers teasing him
And this made his client think that Alfreido was teasing him with the kids
I know he had issues for what he said, but, he though this was very wrongs the way
His carer was behaving, and every time he mentioned Reimo, in hoping that he would
Joke around with you, he will snap, as if you were trying to rob you or something
So at the end when Alfriedo left, he didn 't know what to do
So he rang up the carers organization and told them why Alfreido came instead of Andrew
And they told him they had no choice, it was either Alfreido or no one
And this client said, ok in the future, I will prefer no one, especially if you send him again
Because he is too defensive, when I mention the name of my old carer
And despite telling him why he snapped, he still felt very unsafe
And said, I want you to send no one, or send no one
Because I felt I am offending this carer with anything I say
And I don't know what I really said, and the organisation said, fine
And Alfreido never saw him again,
And the next time Andrew came, and he was very relieved
And told him that the bad carer has gone, and will never return
And Andrew said, yes, mate, I will make sure they don't ever send him again
Sent from my iPhone
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 5:53 AM UTC
Barnacles crunch like fast food under your sneakers,
my gnawed-on boots.
We pass over cat-eyed shards of glass
still spicy with beer bubbles
and still fizzy with teen rebellion;
It molds like an infection here.
In a town nicknamed "Little Norway." ~
This place hoards candy-colored suburbia in its pockets.
Houses like skittles weigh down its pants
and it belches out tourist traps weaker than expired pepsi,
yet it still manages these moments
where I can trot by your gazelle legs
and blast Julie Andrew's confidence.
And I want to heap myself on the oyster shells, say
STOP
Put this moment in a snowglobe,
sigh into it before we move on,
do anything before the wind whips it away.
Etch it into your hand if you have to.
But breeze dimples the water like a golf ball
and rips at the seams of the shore.
Please don't forget me when you leave.
Mar 6, 2012
Mar 6, 2012 at 1:20 AM UTC
andrew.
i fall to my knees at his feet with a heavy breath.
i almost feel unworthy.
this person, this man-
he's perfection in flesh and blood.
i feel blessed.
this angel, a saint with flaws, perfect flaws.
i nearly worship him.
godlike, i search his face for signs of light, anything celestial or close to it.
i find them faintly, small, unnoticeable to anyone who's wronged him.
he is perfect, and somehow, he is mine.
Jul 7, 2020
Jul 7, 2020 at 6:05 PM UTC
And when you
love someone;
their name
begins
to sound like
a song that
never leaves
your
head.
-Andrew Durst.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 10:02 PM UTC
EVERY year Emily Dickinson sent one friend
the first arbutus bud in her garden.
In a last will and testament Andrew Jackson
remembered a friend with the gift of George
Washington's pocket spy-glass.
Napoleon too, in a last testament, mentioned a silver
watch taken from the bedroom of Frederick the Great,
and passed along this trophy to a particular friend.
O. Henry took a blood carnation from his coat lapel
and handed it to a country girl starting work in a
bean bazaar, and scribbled: "Peach blossoms may or
may not stay pink in city dust."
So it goes. Some things we buy, some not.
Tom Jefferson was proud of his radishes, and Abe
Lincoln blacked his own boots, and Bismarck called
Berlin a wilderness of brick and newspapers.
So it goes. There are accomplished facts.
Ride, ride, ride on in the great new blimps-
Cross unheard-of oceans, circle the planet.
When you come back we may sit by five hollyhocks.
We might listen to boys fighting for marbles.
The grasshopper will look good to us.
So it goes ...
2.6k
The first time I saw him, it was through the glass window of the space that he moved into right around the corner. I thought it was a weird spot to move into but shrugged it off because it was none of my business.
The first time I met him, he was wearing the exact pattern of red and black plaid that I’ve been looking for whenever I shop. I stared at it and felt a little defeated that someone found it before I did! But I made no comment.
The first time I spoke to him, I thought nothing much of him at first. the words I used to describe him were “ordinary, typical, run-of-the-mill”. He was…simple. he spoke like he would steal those cheesy catchphrases like “she was like a shot of espresso” — which is what Andrew Garfield said about Emma Stone. And so I walked out of there as if it was just another Monday.
Several Mondays and cheesy catchphrases later, that little place around the corner that was made of brick started to feel more comfortable, and I saw him more often. Slowly, I realized that there is some charm in simplicity. Eventually, I stopped using the words “ordinary, typical, run-of-the-mill”, and I started using the word: familiar. There is so much comfort in the familiar.
At this point in time I seem to always find myself back at that familiar little brick place around the corner. at the end of each day, I go there hoping to find solace. And I always do. If I was into those cliché phrases I would describe it as a warm cup of hot chocolate after a long, rainy drive. It’s a fireplace during a snowstorm. But saying those cheesy catchphrases would be really lame of me, so…
If I were to put into words how I now feel about this person… This must be how it feels when people are looking for a new place to move into. They have this image of their dream house or fantasy apartment. maybe they picture a place with a marble countertop, a dining table made of mahogany, and a ceiling high enough to hang a glass chandelier from. But then, just as they had given up on searching for that dream place, they come across this little cottage made of brick and hardwood floors. There is a leather couch in the middle. They take a seat. Suddenly, they can picture their life there so clearly: nothing but the pitter-patter of the rain drumming on the window pane, the sound of the coffee machine running in the background, and a slice of chocolate cake waiting for them in the refrigerator. It was the familiar feeling of comfort after a tiring day. It was so far from what they had first pictured, but they are absolutely certain that they want to make a home here.
That is how he feels to me now. So far from what I had pictured, but certainly where I want to be at the end of each day. But the funniest part of all of this is: He was the one that arrived there in the first place. He was the one who moved into that quaint little building around the corner. He was the one who found me. And I am the one waiting here; hoping he finds a home within me.
Aug 6, 2022
Aug 6, 2022 at 1:13 PM UTC