Ghastly beautiful, scaling notes ascend and descend in my head chamber. The weight in my lap keeps meter and measure. Dusty sunlight smudges the pages of my favorite book into agreeable feelings. I keep coming back to the same chapter. Re-reading in relentless recreation. I used to try and wring free every little last bit of meaning within. Now I focus on the sensation of bright and bleached paper under my fingertips.
Sometimes I pretend I'm tracing a goddess' skin. It brings a ghost of a smile to my parched lips.
The corner of the first page of the chapter is a dog-eared mess. An absolute mess. Scrawled-in margins and smashed-flat binding.
I move on to read other chapters. Just to see.
None are as good as this one.
11:26 p.m. - 2014-09-09
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