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The Ladle - Salvador Dali in a lawn chair.
I'm invisible without 3D glasses.
The Ladle
In a bath hot enough to scald my soul, I ladle healing water over my head. It rushes down my upturned face, nestles in pools under my closed eyes, parts around the soft hill of my nose, and tickles the corners of my relaxed mouth.

A ladle for every heart I've broken when I've only wanted to heal.

A ladle for every time I've had to shut my heart's doors and tell it no.

A ladle for every time my path has diverged and taken me away from things I could have had.

A ladle for every I'm sorry.

A ladle for all the ridiculous pining that my mind tried to stop but that my heart wouldn't listen.

A ladle for every time I made the right decision and it hurt worse than if I had done what I wanted.

There are no thank you's for doing the right thing. Only the same empty pain of loss and destruction in the path I walk.
1 Quiet Voice | Lift Your Voice Aloft
maxine From: maxine Date: January 19th, 2002 07:57 am (UTC) (link)
1 Quiet Voice | Lift Your Voice Aloft