Introspection (Page 3)

The glow of a distant city beneath a desert sky full of stars.

i am the words i speak, i’m the things i do, i’m not how i look, or the things i accrue. you try to define me with the simplest of words but i’m far beyond that, though you think it absurd.

[continue]. . .

An empty, snow-covered, arctic winter landscape; a snowy desert field with a person walking away toward a blue sky at the horizon.

It’s winter again, it’s snowing outside, and my soul is as dry as my hands. A frozen wasteland, no less of a desert. My heart is parched like the sands.

[continue]. . .

A reclusive girl, in a red dress, sitting alone on a lone rock in the middle of a river, in the early morning

Everything’s already been said. There’s nothing left to say. Everything’s been heard and read. There’s nothing left today.

[continue]. . .

A plain gold wedding Ring sits upright between two curved pages in an open Bible. Back lighting creates a shadow in the shape of a heart, which extends into the crease.

The tilt of your head, the lilt in your voice, the look in your eyes, I don’t have a choice. The words that you say, the ones that you don’t, the volumes unspoken, it’s clear that you won’t.

[continue]. . .

A young girl, wearing jeans, a red shirt, tall boots, a winter hat with a pom-pom, and a black backpack, walks along a grass-covered ridge near a river at sunset.

Some of my ancestors crossed an ocean to live in a land they had never seen. Some lived out their entire lives in one place, never venturing outside of their village, never seeing an ocean.

[continue]
. . .

A close-up photo of the right side of the front of a redheaded caucasian woman's face with her eye closed, blinking.

An hour lasts forever. A lifetime’s just a blink. The time it takes to get there is never what you think.

[continue]. . .