She wasn’t real…
September 9, 2012 § 20 Comments
..the way he talked about her—to her, it wasn’t real, she wasn’t real. Was she? Could she? Could she be real? Was he wrong? And if he was, how would she walk past…the walls of pain he had created
to game her, to shame her, to hurt her, to break her?
She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
so she flew.
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Tagged: flying, gypsy-killer, love, peter pan
she was surreal !! dream like !
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lovely poem
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And she was quite right not to – however flattering his definition was 🙂
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yes yes
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It’s happened to guys too.
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yes yes agreed agreed
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She flew with all her might until her wings could fly no more. It was then that she discovered her inner peace. It resided not in her, but in the heart of another man. She dared not look into his eyes from fear of pain once more, and so instead avoided love in its entirety….or something to that extent. Really great piece Ms. Ginger!
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thank you darling 😉
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… but she did.
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yes 🙂
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i certainly identify with this piece. nicely done coco:)
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Reminds me of the ending to Song of Solomon.
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You are truly a creative soul–to take such experiences that most of us have had and make them so lyrical and freeing.
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awe thank you Lorna, i really appreciate all your words.
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Fly, baby fly
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AMEN SISTER 😀
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Oh oh, Coco. I get lost in the rhythm of your words. A joy to read.
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[…] ARE GIPSIES’ SPARKLING […]
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[…] ARE GIPSIES’ SPARKLING […]
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I had to write something to support you on this! Keep flying! It’s right there: “second star to the right, and straight on till morning.”
http://poubellerie.wordpress.com/2012/10/22/the-fool-n-the-real/
(I hope you don’t mind I linked the text to your blog…) =)
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