Since I've been home with essentially no job (go me), I have been cleaning out a lot stuff in addition to searching for jobs and going on interviews (I have two scheduled for tomorrow and I already had one on Tuesday...a sincere go me!). I was cleaning off my bookshelf and gathering books to donate for charity when I stumbled across my old poetry journal. It's so surreal to sit down and read this stuff now. I haven't written anything in about 4 to 5 years, I would say. I just haven't had the creative spark. But one poem in particular stood out for me, especially since it's focusing on not forgetting things from the past. I've been so damn nostalgic since my second son was born. I had a blog in August about my past love...he is STILL on my mind. I just don't know why I'm retarded. It's so weird how I can miss him so terribly and still be so in love and happy with my husband at the same time, but whatever. 
Anyway, I thought that I would share the poem with you guys! Forgive me, this is the rough draft version (and no, I don't typically write sonnets). And don't steal it...I'll hunt you down. 
The words that were spoken have faded now,
Although I drank them down like wine that night,
Sweet and burning. And Love's massive shadow
Has since eclipsed Its own flickering light.
Shaking off this breathlessness, I make way
For the choking that only loss inspires.
And Time struggles to keep me away
From the moments when I felt an internal fire.
But if the past can truly never be raised,
Some images are still not to be forgotten.
A crisp, cold March night, the backseat, and your eyes are engraved
On my mind like intricate patterns woven into cotton.
With Love and Time sometimes playing thieves,
We must play guards to our memories.
Anyway, I thought that I would share the poem with you guys! Forgive me, this is the rough draft version (and no, I don't typically write sonnets). And don't steal it...I'll hunt you down.
The words that were spoken have faded now,
Although I drank them down like wine that night,
Sweet and burning. And Love's massive shadow
Has since eclipsed Its own flickering light.
Shaking off this breathlessness, I make way
For the choking that only loss inspires.
And Time struggles to keep me away
From the moments when I felt an internal fire.
But if the past can truly never be raised,
Some images are still not to be forgotten.
A crisp, cold March night, the backseat, and your eyes are engraved
On my mind like intricate patterns woven into cotton.
With Love and Time sometimes playing thieves,
We must play guards to our memories.
adelayde:
i managed to get away with only a few on my thighs and one on the bottom on my left boob. you can actually sort of see it in the picture. i worked out like you wouldn't believe as soon as i was able to after having otto.
adelayde:
thank you. 