The life of a modern libertine. Some beautiful words from Greta Bellamacina. The Old Horseshoe Those children from the old horseshoe they have seen the albion trees watch the rain, like the way the night has already wished for arms as long as the street lights. And when you looked to me I wanted to be as kind as the flowers we bought for the night propped up in the sink and the wind in that room battling the battle for another heart beat. Those children from the old horseshoe they have seen the oceans in your bed that grow without any kind of breath. They have watched love that is everything and they have seen the fires that hold the ordinary mouths that open up like a thousand castles made from pavements. Those children at the end of the year say they will, but do they grow out of their bodies like a libertine forcing you to let go, all for the sake of the river banks which go unseen and their fathers that made words into new worlds. And the parks that made you hold hands after the day had become tried and haunted, where the ground felt further away where the sunrise washed the grass, burning always.
Posted on: Thu, 14 Aug 2014 19:41:30 +0000
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