Sunday, April 28, 2013

Melancholy Sundays

On Sundays, I want to give everything up for love. I want it all dyed red. I want the paint to peel, the floorboards to buckle.  I want to burn it down.

I want the crown of thorns.  I want dresses made of scraps of silk and lace.  I want everything whole and torn apart all at once.

How do we get through these Sundays, brightness shining on this clear, sensational imperfection?

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