luggage by Angela Thomas i'm leaving in t-minus three hours and can you believe that i'm still not packed? that there's still a vintage suitcase, one that belonged to my grandfather, sitting half empty, half full of my cat, on my bed. and i don't know what else to put in it. how do i pack my dreams? little whispers late at night that everything is okay, or maybe your lips when they're pressed tightly to my skin? i don't want to pack. i don't want to take the essentials and cram them in metal and leather and fabric and hear the little -click- as the clasp locks shut, all valuables out of sight, out of mind. now, don't get me wrong, bright lights, fast city, slow country, dark wine, i'm going to enjoy myself very much. i just wish i wasn't leaving you with a suitcase and a shoestring dangling hope for the future. 10/02/2009 Posted on 10/02/2009 Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas Return to the Previous Page   pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online All works Copyright © 2024 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)