witty-remark's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -
Our faces become a palette as the lights dance off our eyelids and the tips of our fingers as we throw them in the air. Click. Click. Click. I feel delicate but depthless. My little black dress wraps around my body like Saran and hugs every curve in sight. Its long sleeves stand little chance in the chilling night against the deep scoop exposing my back and making my spine curl up and emerge. At night's end, we stumble through your door and I find myself holding a crossword I don't recall solving. As the water boils and I stir our macaroni, you find a makeshift box and jokingly propose to me. 7:19 p.m. - Sunday, Aug. 16, 2009 |
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