notascolorfuldetail

Keep Art Alive :: Art by Joshua Petker

Boots of Spanish Leather :: The Airborne Toxic Event

Oh, but if I had the stars from the darkest night,
and the diamonds from the deepest ocean,
I’d forsake them all for your sweet kiss,
For that’s all I’m wishin’ to be ownin’
.”

There is freedom in being free, and the times between jagged phone conversations and mis-matched time zones, they can all go to sleep now. But, she never sleeps well, not with so much space from her door to the other side of the ocean, but hell, she never slept well anyway. She would have let her lips and hips, and heart and breath, be owned, writing endless love letters into the air, and on his skin. She would have been his.

Boots of Spanish Leather (live) :: The Lumineers

But now the days cling and clump, like mud tracked in on the bottom of her boots, and she still writes love letters into the air, and some nights on her own skin, in rips and ripples. Whiskey bottles are emptied and filled with dried flowers, emptied as last night’s means to an end to a dream, the alcohol stinging her lips with each tip back and swallow. She keeps checking the mail, hoping he writes to explain, but no one writes real letters anymore. He may have forgotten her already, by now.

Boots of Spanish Leather (live) :: Bob Dylan

Oh, how can, how can you ask me again,
it only brings me sorrow.
The same thing I want from you today,
I would want again tomorrow.”

It is only these songs on long days that makes her remember the sound of his bike’s engine, his boot steps on her porch, and the way his name sounded in a whisper.

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