Sometimes, I am a Bear. [entries|friends|calendar]
C² ÷ √♥ = ?

[ website | Bearspace ]
[ userinfo | livejournal userinfo ]
[ calendar | livejournal calendar ]

Hunting for Ducks [boys] [13 May 2008|01:24pm]
"That is no duck."

"That is one wild vulture bird."
Colour For The Black Bear Is A Synonym For Age

For She Is A Rare Bird, Thank God I'm A Bird Caller [10 May 2008|05:37am]


Al, my Darling, you are a ray of absolute sunshine in an otherwise cloudy and shadowy night.

Today specifically, and these last few months in general, have been so awkward and crazy for me. I'm ass-backwards, and more than anything, you have given me great reason to smile again. I see so much of myself in you. So many opportunities I want to make sure you don't miss the way I did, and a life that can be lived to a fuller extent than I was allowed. You scrape your knees and knock heads, and I see flashes of the boundless little girl that I left behind so long ago.

You are me five years ago, with hope. You are still bright eyed and bushy tailed, and I want so much for you to grab the bull by the horns and feel alive the way I wish I'd had more time to do. When I was your age, in your position, more than anything in the world, I wanted someone like me, to take me in and give me advice. To support me even when I fucked up big time. I didn't have that, but at very least, I can be all this and more for you.

I love you to all the ends of the Earth. You are an intelligent, thoughtful, and beautiful young woman. Every day you make me proud to know you, and with every breath I wish to know you better. To delve deeper into that amazing brain, whose tiny sparks I am so privileged to occasionally see. I envy you, and all your limitless, unwasted talents. I am dedicated to making sure you push them to their fullest, and make yourself into everything anyone else ever told you you'd never be.

Colour For The Black Bear Is A Synonym For Age
If I Were One, I'd Be In My Cinnamon Phase
Instead I Am 21 And The Decades Weigh A Ton

[08 May 2008|04:12am]
I have been drawing you a lot lately.

The soft, curly hairs peppering your chest, which entangle the hand I lay over your beating heart. The smooth and distinct lines of your thighs interrupted by your solid, toned calves. The curve of your lower back and the shoulders that have carried me through disaster after disaster.

Your big arms, which are so warm, and have kept me from falling away from you on numerous occasions. The slightly curvy belly that you coo about hating, but which I could not imagine you without. The gentle slope of your eyelashes lying against your cheekbones as you drift off to sleep, and the constant scruff that I would disown you for ever shaving completely.


Sometimes when you are sleeping very deeply, I like to scoot down into the curve of your chest. Entwine my toes between yours. Snake my arms around you. Press my face softly against your ribs and breathe in deep, the heady scent of sweat and soap and darkness.

You think I hate sleeping with you, when really I'm afraid I'll only spoil it with too much thinking. I feel so insignificant in the face of something as simple and beautiful, as your chin resting on my shoulder and your long fingers laced gingerly over and under and over and under my own.
Colour For The Black Bear Is A Synonym For Age
If I Were One, I'd Be In My Cinnamon Phase
Instead I Am 21 And The Decades Weigh A Ton

[01 May 2008|09:22pm]
Ashamed to be ashamed,
now I'm ashamed.




Not smarter than the human brain,
just smarter than humans.
Colour For The Black Bear Is A Synonym For Age

navigation
[ viewing | most recent entries ]
[ go | earlier ]