Barefoot and Brave

Watching P.S. I love you and I would greatly enjoy marrying an Irish man! I'm that weird kid who has always felt like the man I would marry would be from somewhere in Europe, most likely Ireland. Call me crazy, but it's just always been like that. We had dorm inspections today and they went quite well, and it means I'm that much closer to getting out of this place!! I can't wait to live on the island and be doing something much, much more interesting.

Walk barefoot,
    over the cobbled stones
the heat of the sun warming
   your fingers.
Walk barefoot,
        under the broken bridge
the cool of the night freezing
     your fingers.

Watchful and Weary.

I've come to find that usuing large words that have a rather destructive purpose can shield most of what I think. Spilling out over the brim that I just can't keep covered and the lips that never stop and think. Pushing under their skin, like the slivers you use to throw at me. Not anymore though, now we're nothing but a crushed and broken memory and I cannot believe I wasted my time. Now you're leaving me out in the cold snow and watching as my skin fades to blue and my eyes become listless. I find that it just doesn't matter anymore. You're a self entitled ass who will never understand that you're not the glue holding people together. Rather, you're the little frayed ends that we try and pull out, but you always remain clinging to some hidden surface.