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.