sometimes i write in haste, other times in a drunken stupor, but sometimes i write to actually find myself again, with nothing but the purest of intentions. Sometimes writing works, and i discover something i didn't know about myself or i come to a decision i still didn't even know i'd made.
A plan has been in motion for a while and now it's about time i begin the process. when you know, you know.
todo azul, todo azul, todo azul
Saturday, November 22, 2014
Friday, November 7, 2014
mija... que haces?
would she tell me to come home?
she would.
she would ask why i'm not with my brothers and sister.
she would remind me that "in the end nothing matters but the people who love you most, your family"
she'd ask to keep my father's temper tempered
the biggest heart, my biggest love.
Aurora.
Then, the intellect in me exposes the awe one has in someone's departure. for one to say meaningful things while alive can be a sweet and thoughtful thing but to remember those verses when that person has passed is a thing of great sorrow and enlightenment. i love you mom. and i miss you. i wish you were here to beg me to come home.
she would.
she would ask why i'm not with my brothers and sister.
she would remind me that "in the end nothing matters but the people who love you most, your family"
she'd ask to keep my father's temper tempered
the biggest heart, my biggest love.
Aurora.
Then, the intellect in me exposes the awe one has in someone's departure. for one to say meaningful things while alive can be a sweet and thoughtful thing but to remember those verses when that person has passed is a thing of great sorrow and enlightenment. i love you mom. and i miss you. i wish you were here to beg me to come home.
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