Friday, December 19, 2008

nine hundred and something

Blood boils beneath the cloak of conviction you have clothed yourself with; the warmth is even too much for you to bear. (let alone the victims of your sudden prominence)

Such laugh lines are beautiful to me, yet I, upon watching you laugh, see through to those few long years in which they were put to rest. (a season spent in licking wounds)

And if one should marvel at the beauty of a great lioness, but begin to feel afraid with each and every step with which she is to draw nearer, I should feel the same about the wonderment I've found in you. (as well as the cautiousness I'd disregarded)