The memory of a dead rose’s scent does not un-wilt its petals.
How do you find it? And where? That flower that blooms without end?
What an exquisite treasure,
the quiet remembrance
of your smile.
Because my retainers broke while I was ~daintily~ cleaning them and now I have to have new ones made and I don’t want to waste money on a dental appliance that will try to keep my teeth from moving because they are such stubborn mofos.
I’m all for having individuality and such, but come on - we’re one team here.
Roughly forty days ‘til the year ends. Forty days to reclaim various bits and pieces of things that I love to do that I seem to have lost along the way; neglected or forgotten (unconsciously and otherwise). Of course, ultimately the goal is to keep doing them.
Unless of course, the Mayans got it right and the world does end December 21st, then I have around a month left.
In any case, it’s never too late - 2012, you’re gonna be my bitch.
When the well is dry, or the soil infertile,
should it cry foul for its barrenness,
or celebrate the fulfillment of its purpose?