Sell me a flower more beautiful
Than the one beside me now
And I’ll pay you with my life.
Find me a darker thought
Than the one I hold each night
And I’ll give you my flower
For you need it more than I.
(i wrote his a while ago... a long while ago)
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but swirling... was how i got high as a child.
aye davanita welcomes you...
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my heroes...
about moi...
- - Aye Davanita
- Manhattan, New York, United States
hop to another blog:
intended summer of 2007
2 comments:
What happens when the flower next to you fades? How many people do you pay with your life?
My prose is left up to your interpretation and isn't for me to explain. And it sounds like you ask a question to which you already know the answer.
Please don't leave comments as "anonymous". It renders a great question (thought-provoking statement, whatever) - much weaker.
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