vinylgirl's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- love will tear us apart Tomorrow I will be 22 years old. I am still 16 in terms of emotional immaturity. A Lisbon locked in her room protected from the ills of the world: heartache, fear, sexually transmitted infections. Love hangs in the air on the notes from from the turntable. Warm scratchy vinyl. Retreat, not defeat. Telephone tag. Messages. Superstition: photos tucked into pillow cases. Magic. When do the words "I'm sorry" completely lose any significance? At what point after a silence should a person walk away? Can you come back? I blew you off. It has always been easier for me to run away, even if it hurts, than to stomach the discomfort of infatuation. I wish I could still feel the imprint of your lips on mine. Fingertip to lip. I think the frost killed the nerves in my lips - they can't feel. Dreaming of record shops where you sneak up behind me, put your arms around me, mock my record selection and gently kiss the nape of my neck. Daylight breaks and you are a memory. Tiny glimpses of boyfriend guy. The guy I wish you could be. <3 Allison 11:21 p.m. - 04/06/2007 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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