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Posted Thursday, July 22, 2010 //
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#140. Staring at the pillow where you slept last night, it's almost like you're still lying there, in the shirt that you wore of mine, took it off and threw it across the chair. It's kind of hard to keep you off my mind, when I keep seeing you everywhere. Like lipstick on a glass of wine, sitting right over there. I can't play it off like we're friends like I used to, no I can't pretend like I used to. So now I'm lying in my bed thinking 'bout you. What do I do? Staring at a stack of paperclips isn't very productive. Neither is blogging that I'm staring at a pile of paperclips. Hence, today shall be deemed an unproductive day. Often, I stare at my hands. I stare at them and wonder why they look the way they do. Is it my genetic build up? Or maybe it's the way God made me.. But then again, maybe everything I've done to my hands since the day I was born caused them to turn out this way. If I had taken a different path, would I have looked different? Would I still be the same me I am now? And as always, to end it, would I have met you. Regardless of what thoughts are clouding my brain, you seem to always be the ray of sunshine that parts them, and warms me up. God, that was a weird metaphor.  |
About
Hello, this is Tien. This blog is the remains of the unconventional cliches and angsty phrases of my teenage years. (Plus a new one every now and then)I ♥ Phoenix, (500) days of summer, double entendres, unmade beds, autumn, Chopin, syncopated melodies, G7 chords and things that make me feel. BACKTRACK
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