pictures_don't_change_when_you_move_them Grievance Kind's observations harkened aminstral strung from sitar and mistral open caverns house the mourns pro[piety] distill motion tampering defy me a long sighted compass proclaiming orientation unseen swims mark your personal graduation you felt the day breeze smile high past your day moon and tatooed you gazed markedly at ministers cobbling their way past your gaze of judgement and it's sisters to proclaim words of evangelist fire in your dirt marring tramped earth that was stilled in mirth, watching the wind tracks left in evanecent memory upon your travesty of forlorn forsaken aerth capacity rampant migrant illusions in groves of islandic despair cry weeping homage to the mistral breeze thin opaque linging your regal magician's tea. 020209 ... reitoei but you do 020210 ... megan i tried to put you and me in a box. all the pictures my mom took, all the silly photos before dances, one making cookies, one just because, one by the horse barn, so many. i wanted to erase you, not have to remember how nice it was to feel cared about. appreciated. loved. i didn't want to remember how to feel loved because i don't want to miss it. i don't want to hurt anymore. I DON'T WANT TO HURT ANYMORE! i am so sick of crying and having that knot in my stomach and tight throat and wishing nothing ever happened, sometimes i even wish i didn't know how different you are than what i knew. sometimes i just wish things were perfect like when you were holding me and i could fall asleep in your arms. not a care in the world. those pictures are still there. our smiles, our bright sparkling eyes looking at each other, your arm wrapped around me ever so tight. a constant reminder of how good it was. for some reason i can't get rid of those pictures. i tried to burn them, to be rid of them, but i can't. i'd miss the memory of being loved. 040709 ... unhinged tarnished faded away we don't even bother to print the photos anymore so more and more all_i_have are photographic_memory s 180820 what's it to you? who go blather from