Thursday, April 8, 2010
Yes, you're in the right place.
Unless you were looking for someone else. If that's the case, browse a second and see if I float your boat or not.
For those of you looking for Christi on purpose, here I am! As many of you read yesterday at Elana's blog, black blogs are harder to read. I had no idea. I work eight hours a day with four DOS based windows open, so I look at white on black all the time and have no problem. But I'd hate to think I'm making anyone's day harder, so I changed it for easier reading.
This is a quick post afore a run off for work, but I'd like to take a moment and thank everyone for the wonderful comments about yesterday's post. You all rock. That's all I can say.
Without further ado, a shortie called Winter Man:
The eyes that he wears are so open. He is as all are, it seems, but pretty words elude him. I know better than to trust him too much. It isn’t that he is deceptive or given to falsehood, but others have come before him and taught me well that life itself is an exercise is trickery. A clever dance we do as we evade the truth, or act as sleuths to uncover it. Why must we pick on truth? What has it ever done to us?
Or for us, for that matter.
He is the sound I hear when winter comes. No, the seasons stay the same for everyone else, but a single syllable from his mouth sends a blizzard through my veins, chilling me so completely that I swear I can see my exhale as a white puff in front of my face, billowing up into the heavens, where he says he will send me someday if I don’t start minding my mouth better. Should this honesty make me trust him more? He could just smile sweetly and tell me he loves me, but then the hammer to my skull would be such a shock.
I don’t like surprises.
I had a cat once that slept on my feet. It did not do it to keep my feet warm, but to prove to me that it could lay wherever it wanted to. He is much the same. I pet him sometimes and call him by my cat’s name, but he does not know why. He bites harder, though, and doesn’t fit as well in the gunny sack.
I’ve measured him.