

Liquor Store, Pt. 1.For a charcoal veil to fall and belay the actual time of day. Sheets of rain and thunder; bottles on shelves occasionally clink together with the strength of it.Liquor Store, Pt. 1.
To lay across a worn wooden counter and listen, and smell, and watch: tinks and clinks, must of dust on boxes, rush of "fresh" from under the door. For the wood to feel warm against the cheek- for the leaves to look cold outside.
To experience storm.
And one man came in that afternoon, plastic parka dripdripdripping on flecked, tan linoleum. Thud, the scotch dropped on the counter. Aberlour, Speyside, highlands, 12 years, forty-two forty-seven.


Like Poetry.Heavy whorls in your hair, I thought you were a secret poet. I thought the hook of your nose, the dawn-gray of your eyes, the ragged flatness to your otherwise comforting baritone. I thought the way your head felt cradled against my chest and the clinging of your fingertips on my shoulder blades meant we harbored a kind of courage that is both titanous and tentative, the kind of courage needed to deeply love.Like Poetry.
Your whispers at night were methodologically, skillfully, cruelly, mellifluously constructed pieces to an epitaph. In a way, you were
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100 Themes Challenge!
thanks for the fav :]
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i'll love you until my last breath takes you from me
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"We all make choices in life, but in the end our choices... make us." - Andrew Ryan
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*100ThemesChallenge My list: [link]
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Join *theme-of-the-week
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Do you really love me ?
Do you really care for me ?
Or was this not meant to be ?
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Potato fan.
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There is no evil, there are only choices.
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B-I-Z-A-R-R-I-S-M-O
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I do requests! Check out my gallery: [link]
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