laffinkid's Diaryland Diary

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my cave

that voice is a cave of darkness and blankets to retreat into when the brightness of my smile is just all out of wattage. when the muscles on my bones are jelly and rebelling. when the hair on my head is knapped and tangled. i crawl to him.

he doesn't know it. because he cannot see me beat. worn. and torn.

but he hears it. and he cradles me through plastic and sattelites.

nothing's as soft as his chords.

7:13 p.m. - 2006-01-25

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