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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=568901" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Pistachios</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I no longer know what to do with myself<br>I don't know anymore<br>I am filled entirely<br>I am insecure<br>I mean its like you've the nuts walked out<br>and we are left with just a shell <br>a husk<br>a memory<br>but nothing more<br>because you see there is no more meat left<br>Just the salt<br>coating itself around us<br>encasing us<br>leaving all the bitter memory and the idea of sustenance <br>Where are we going? <br>Is this it? <br>is this a foreshadowing? <br>my dreams speak volumes<br>and your eyes read spoilers<br>leaving me. feeling lost and broken<br>a sea of saltwater tears are becoming my normal surroundings<br>and I am drowning<br> in myself, ourselves, and all that i have known<br>I can feel the cracks in our foundations <br>the gravel falling out<br>like snow on Christmas day<br>never ending<br>endless and paradoxical <br>I hate the cold. <br>i hate the snow but its so beautiful<br>and that is us<br>snow<br>now we are snow<br>beautiful and clean and pure and crisp and all the nice positive ways of describing it. <br>but then what happens when the snow falls <br>it becomes consumed and filled with tainted dirt and sludge<br>and then it shows us false pretenses<br>pretending to be <br>beautiful and clean and pure and crisp and all the nice positive ways of describing it until you touch it<br>press yourself in it. <br>emerge in it<br>The crunch, sound all beautiful until you feel it cut at your ankles<br>or got thrown hard at your ears as it bruises you. <br>but somehow you still love the snow. <br>you made me love the snow. <br>and i don't want to hate it. <br>I want to fall in it.<br>freshly laid <br>I want to feel the fluff <br>before my tears melt<br>before i fall out<br>but haven't i already done that? <br>I don't know what to do with myself<br>other than stare out into the snow<br>behind this salty shell<br>this husk<br>screaming <br>begging<br>waiting for...<br>waiting for something that i don't know anymore</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Jennifer Gordon.5.13.12</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jennifer+Gordon">Jennifer Gordon</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=568901" data-title="Pistachios de Jennifer Gordon" data-description="I no longer know what to do with myself
I don't know anymore
I am filled entirely
I am insecure
I mean its like you've the nuts walked out
and we are left with just a shell 
a husk
a memory
but nothing more
because you see there is no more meat le..."></div>
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