your little voice
      		     over the wires came leaping
and i felt suddenly
dizzy
     with the jostling and shouting of merry flowers
wee skipping high-heeled flames
courtesied before my eyes
                         or twinkling over to my side
looked up
with impertinently exquisite faces
floating hands were laid upon me
i was whirled and tossed into delicious dancing
up
up
with the pale important
                       stars and the humorous
                                             moon
dear girl
how i was crazy how i cried when i heard
                                        over time
and tide and death
leaping
sweetly
       your voice

e. e. cummings

my name is lia marie and i drown in poetry and words. romanticizing death is my biggest fault and sometimes i draw my lungs in black. i possess a dress that has a dandelion pattern and it reminds me of a nightgown i liked to wear when i was little.