Coco J. Ginger's Blog, page 35

Love her

All he wants is to love her. Yet, of all his vices, ‘to love’ is the one he will not allow himself.

He loves me with his hate.

He loves me. He loves me with his hate. Indifference would set him free. I could not affect him to such rage. He loves me. He loves me with his hate. The opposite of love is not hate. Hate is but a jealous branch attached at the root of love. He pretends [...]

My rich inheritance

My Grandfather was an extraordinary man. He changed thousands, and thousands of lives with his encouraging words, unconditional love and kindness. He is not alive on this earth anymore. But he has left a large legacy. I often run into people who knew him, all they want to do is talk about him. Usually tears [...]

happy and bright

She has been trying to pull her worth from him for so long. She has been trying to extract her beauty from his skin. She has been dying to be loved by him again… ….but he will always leave her empty. Yet today, she is happy she [...]

Riding

I write about you….. not for sadness—but for happiness. I remember you… not with ache, but for my future dreams sake. I talk about you sometimes… only to myself— no one else really knew you. I pretend I did… did I? I see you in the rich waves rolling, as I ride, ride, [...]

Who is he?

How do I feel? I cannot tell you. My blood is electricty. He sucked out my soul and wrote his brilliance upon it. He blew it back, preventing breath, choking me—I cannot be the same. He named the person I loved, after I told him I’d never been in love. How? I’ve never met one [...]

disenchant

Your lack of imagination disenchants [freeing me]. If I had no imagination, I would hate you. But I don’t want to be part of your reality. Part of your cold dying sighs. So I’ll keep dreaming. I’ll dream up a world where you never existed. A world, you could never live in. I’ll live there [...]

He writes

He writes to be heard. She writes to feel, to be felt. He writes for reaction. She writes for her own hearts impaction. Neither is right, neither is wrong, just a difference in the hearts satisfactions. He loves to write. She loves to write. So different, yet so alike.

Try to break me

…with your words. I’ll just keep on dancing.

Lipstick

Sword of the goddess, scream in the shy, sex in the virgin, cayenne in the kiss. The cinnamon spread across her lips.