<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6640242999624173402</id><updated>2011-11-27T18:21:54.259-08:00</updated><category term='Murder by Death'/><category term='journal entry'/><category term='firsts'/><category term='summer'/><category term='wasted time'/><category term='fire'/><category term='clothing'/><category term='shiver'/><category term='Flogging Molly'/><category term='concert'/><category term='music'/><category term='beauty'/><category term='heroes'/><category term='winter'/><category term='fall'/><category term='game'/><category term='photos'/><category term='the sea'/><title type='text'>broken cookie jar</title><subtitle type='html'>"And by the way, everything in life is writable about if you have the outgoing guts to do it, and the imagination to improvise. The worst enemy to creativity is self-doubt." ~ Sylvia Plath</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>*Kassidy*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15106511513760233715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hcy_XDZ59RY/S8Jl7jFxQZI/AAAAAAAAATI/FQFtEWOmKMA/S220/018.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>13</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6640242999624173402.post-3819456108848465226</id><published>2009-10-28T09:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-28T10:36:26.073-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beauty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='winter'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fall'/><title type='text'>in the end</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Gold and fire reach up to an old greying face, visions of beauty and death encircling one another. A thin wind chills your bones as you shudder at the intensity it holds. Look ahead to possibilities of soft white blankets wrapping themselves into every corner and the knowledge that a downpour of tears will whisk them all away. Lean into one another to grab ahold of every last bit of warmth that radiates from our souls. Eyes search for the secrets within, knowing this is for but a brief moment in time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6640242999624173402-3819456108848465226?l=peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/feeds/3819456108848465226/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6640242999624173402&amp;postID=3819456108848465226' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/3819456108848465226'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/3819456108848465226'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/2009/10/in-end.html' title='in the end'/><author><name>*Kassidy*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15106511513760233715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hcy_XDZ59RY/S8Jl7jFxQZI/AAAAAAAAATI/FQFtEWOmKMA/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6640242999624173402.post-58416123393384947</id><published>2009-10-27T12:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-10-27T12:49:53.176-07:00</updated><title type='text'>a promise is forever</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;it's time to cross that road&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;but I need your hand to help me through&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;I'm frightened and I need your strength and your heart&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;to hold me fast&lt;br /&gt;and calm my beating soul.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;please don't take offense&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;this is just so new and I'm so worried of doing it wrong...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;patience, love.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;I gave you my promise&lt;br /&gt;not with a half hearted will&lt;br /&gt;but whole souled and deep affection.&lt;br /&gt;only sometimes I need that extra pull -&lt;br /&gt;so take my fingers and wrap them within your own&lt;br /&gt;keeping me safe and warm&lt;br /&gt;within your strong devotion.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6640242999624173402-58416123393384947?l=peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/feeds/58416123393384947/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6640242999624173402&amp;postID=58416123393384947' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/58416123393384947'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/58416123393384947'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/2009/10/promise-is-forever.html' title='a promise is forever'/><author><name>*Kassidy*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15106511513760233715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hcy_XDZ59RY/S8Jl7jFxQZI/AAAAAAAAATI/FQFtEWOmKMA/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6640242999624173402.post-3785358658204915562</id><published>2008-09-04T13:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-05T15:22:23.285-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Lemonade and Vodka</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Tantalizing like lover's lips the light shines down upon bare skin lying against an emerald sea. Shimmering droplets slide hot down bronzed skin, trying to find a cool place to hide. Gentle laughter races with the breeze as the waves sing out praises to the sun. Stretch out and embrace the surroundings glittering under a pale blue veil. The passion of summer is coming to an end, grasp the lingering brilliance for tomorrow it may be gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6640242999624173402-3785358658204915562?l=peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/feeds/3785358658204915562/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6640242999624173402&amp;postID=3785358658204915562' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/3785358658204915562'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/3785358658204915562'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/2008/09/vodka-and-lemonade.html' title='Lemonade and Vodka'/><author><name>*Kassidy*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15106511513760233715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hcy_XDZ59RY/S8Jl7jFxQZI/AAAAAAAAATI/FQFtEWOmKMA/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6640242999624173402.post-8655664274875613051</id><published>2008-07-18T15:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-07-18T15:35:31.331-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Half Truths</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;The flickering flame caught my attention as I watched out the window into the yellow hall across the street. The flame glowed orange within a hot red orb, dancing to the beat of the rain as it poured onto the souls down below. I whispered "I'm sorry" even though I knew you wouldn't hear me, and then tried out a smile to hide the truth. Your eyes were concerned and I couldn't take it so I stared out the window again.  I knew you wanted to ask and I'll thank you now for not. Sometimes I feel you still know me so well, but other times I wonder if you ever knew me at all. It doesn't matter now anyway, does it? No. no. no.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Did you remember the significance of the day?  Did you know why tears had sprung up in that briefest of moments? I thought perhaps you had but then again maybe it was just me and I should probably forget about such things. But as we sat in the familiar darkened room I couldn't help but to remember and I had to turn away to the rain once more.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if you realize and I know time can go by so fast but this is all fixed into my mind so clear and I wish it would just wash away but something just clings on and I try to figure it all out but I can't on my own and I'm afraid to ask so I sit rambling to myself and end up back with the same wonderings ...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And I'm so tired of writing sad little love songs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6640242999624173402-8655664274875613051?l=peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/feeds/8655664274875613051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6640242999624173402&amp;postID=8655664274875613051' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/8655664274875613051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/8655664274875613051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/2008/04/half-truths.html' title='Half Truths'/><author><name>*Kassidy*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15106511513760233715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hcy_XDZ59RY/S8Jl7jFxQZI/AAAAAAAAATI/FQFtEWOmKMA/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6640242999624173402.post-6191130629884964354</id><published>2008-05-12T15:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-15T13:04:14.212-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Afternoon Daydreams</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Lets just go. Get out of this grey city where everyone knows our stories.  Pack up your bags and we'll go, drive south to the coast where the sand is soft and the ocean sings lullabies to the stars up in the sky. We'll take photos of buildings and people standing against cars broke down on the highway. I'll find the perfect light to capture your perfect smile and you'll tell me to stop distracting you as you drive. Looking out the dirtied window I'll pretend to pout as I watch abandoned fields fly by. You'll turn up our favorite song and we'll sing to passersby and they will smile, wishing to be on our adventure. The night will turn cold and I will blow warm breath onto the glass and draw hearts and stars. You'll decide to stop for the evening in a gas station parking lot where there will be dimmed street lights shining in our direction. We'll sleep uneasy dreams and wake exhausted in the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will take over the wheel as you gaze out into the world. You'll take photos of yourself against the ever changing backdrop we pass. I'll tell you my new favorite joke and you'll roll your eyes as I laugh hysterically. The day will turn warmer the further south we ride and we'll lean our arms outside as the sun burns our skin to an amber brown. I'll gaze up into the sky and wish to be a bird, able to fly so free and unafraid. We will take a wrong turn and discover an old rusted barn. I'll insist on exploring and you'll insist we turn right back around but as usual I will win. Behind the barn will be a flower garden, somehow maintained though the rest has gone to pieces. I pluck an orange bloom and place it behind my ear.  We will take a photo of us leaning against the rusted red wall. You'll see something inside and we will make our way in, giggling nervously. We will have discovered a secret hideaway, a mattress covered in red sheets and a bouquet of daisies lying upon the pillows. A photograph of young lovers smiling will sit on a pile of books. You'll look at me and I will nod and we will leave quiet and calm. We take the road back to our destination, both thinking about our own stories hidden away. If only they could be as beautiful.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally the coast will appear and we will cry out joyfully. It will be just dusk, when the sun begins to make it's way to bed and the fireflies begin their dance. We will stroll barefoot down to the water and feel the blue water soak us between the toes. I'll lie down on the warm sand and smile into the setting sun. You'll take a place beside me and take our photo once more. We'll close our eyes and fall asleep to the ocean's lullaby and wonder if anything had ever been so perfect.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6640242999624173402-6191130629884964354?l=peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/feeds/6191130629884964354/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6640242999624173402&amp;postID=6191130629884964354' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/6191130629884964354'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/6191130629884964354'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/2008/05/afternoon-daydreams.html' title='Afternoon Daydreams'/><author><name>*Kassidy*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15106511513760233715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hcy_XDZ59RY/S8Jl7jFxQZI/AAAAAAAAATI/FQFtEWOmKMA/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6640242999624173402.post-4883156712338571465</id><published>2008-03-10T12:31:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T13:51:36.636-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Light's Passing</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;I wrap my lanky arms around your slender waist and inhale your scent through the cotton of the threadbare sweatshirt you always wear. You make me think of a winter's day, running down the coast in wet sticky sand as rain dances across my face when you wear this sweatshirt. Not one for extravagance, you bought it at a Goodwill as we passed through some town where the faces and buildings all melded into one smear on our canvas. As I hold my forehead against your back I wonder if the previous owner ever had someone to hold him and love him and I hope that he did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My cold hands find their way into your pocket and your warm hands follow, fire and ice entwine and I smile at how opposite we seem to be. I kiss that spot between your shoulder blades where I know a cluster of freckles shine like stars in a midnight sky. I tell myself that someday I will find every freckle on your golden body and kiss them. A small giggle escapes my lips and you pull me around so we stand face to face. You ask me what I'm giggling about and I only smile and tell you I love you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You pull me tighter as you stare out behind me at the birds shouting out greetings and goodbyes as they come together and then fly off again. A petite breeze curls its way around us and back up to the sky and the birds tear apart so as not to feel the cool air hit ruffled feathers. The sky screams blue at us and we notice two of the birds have flown off together, seemingly into the sun. You tell me there is nothing more beautiful then knowing you have someone, that you belong. Your lips find mine briefly and we turn to leave, following the birds into the sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6640242999624173402-4883156712338571465?l=peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/feeds/4883156712338571465/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6640242999624173402&amp;postID=4883156712338571465' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/4883156712338571465'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/4883156712338571465'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/2008/03/lights-passing.html' title='Light&apos;s Passing'/><author><name>*Kassidy*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15106511513760233715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hcy_XDZ59RY/S8Jl7jFxQZI/AAAAAAAAATI/FQFtEWOmKMA/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6640242999624173402.post-8013584910356745918</id><published>2008-02-02T10:39:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-06T15:44:52.583-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='the sea'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='photos'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='heroes'/><title type='text'>This Is Our Life</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;I've decided we are going to be a story. I will write a novel about us. For us. You will be the dashing young hero and I will be the strong-willed heroine and together we will save the world. Or, at least, save ourselves from this world. It will be simple with incomplete sentances and not every i will be dotted. But such are the lives we lead, full of un-dotted i's. There will be brief interludes where I shall imagine your thoughts as you look out into the dusty sea and it will be like an old forgotten photograph somone took years ago. At times we will walk together down abandoned alleyways but not look once at one another, I will have seemed to ruined things again. But never fear, as we reach the light at the end you always throw an arm around my thin shoulders and pull me close and I will know you need me still. Though there will be times I wonder if you need me as much as you think I need you. Perhaps this will be the case. We will travel the cities and the countrysides and take photos of one another taking photos of the scenery, each of us capturing something beautiful. And at the end of the day these memories will be carefully placed in a tattered and torn shoebox we will find in chapter 2.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think we will not become lovers, because that transistion always brings about complications. And as I said, this story is to be simple. But there will be looks with possible meaning and the reader will desperately urge me to finally "just get on with it, kiss him already, go on!" I will have to shake my head appologetically and turn away as I ever so quietly wipe away the shiny diamond of a tear threatening to show it's face. You will watch as I move away and see the gentle gesture and the reader will know as I will not that your heart beats heavy for that which you cannot know. It will be heartbreaking but I think for the best and afterall, isn't this a part of life?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the end we will both be old and satisfied. There is a place on the beach, discovered towards the middle of chapter 7, we both instantly have a connection to. Nothing much, a log swept up from the sea, surrounded by the seagrass that grows high into the ocean's sky. When we first set our eyes upon this place there was one single yellow flower dancing in the wind and you went to pick it, to place it in my hair. I stopped you, maybe this flower was waiting for someone to come save her, like we were saving the world. So you let her be and we rested along the log and she danced for us. And now, in the final verse of our story, we go back to this place and there is not one single yellow flower but hundreds, all of them dancing for us, asking us to join them. You had never asked me to dance before, but finally in the last few sentances you take my hand and you hold me close. I can smell your skin and feel your heart beating our song and I smile to myself. The diamond of a tear breaks loose but this time I let it go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And when our song is over we lie down once again against the log, your arm around my frame. I close my eyes for my last time so I don't see the one yellow flower that seems to have detatched itself from the hundreds, leaning close against my face. It seems to be nodding its consent so you take it and place it behind my ear. You will trace the outline of my face for the first time, for the last time, and finally close your eyes to the beauty of the sea surrounding us. Our story will be just as beautiful in death as it was in life. And in the end, we have have done our duty, if not to the world then to one another.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6640242999624173402-8013584910356745918?l=peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/feeds/8013584910356745918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6640242999624173402&amp;postID=8013584910356745918' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/8013584910356745918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/8013584910356745918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/2008/02/this-is-our-life.html' title='This Is Our Life'/><author><name>*Kassidy*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15106511513760233715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hcy_XDZ59RY/S8Jl7jFxQZI/AAAAAAAAATI/FQFtEWOmKMA/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6640242999624173402.post-1198486930208539099</id><published>2007-12-05T14:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T21:46:57.651-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Flogging Molly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Murder by Death'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='concert'/><title type='text'>Sláinte</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;walk into a crowded room, walls of brick and a ceiling of wood enclosing around you. stake your claim and stand head held high, sweet anticipation rushing through your bones. lights dim and an ecstatic violin plays to you your secrets. close your eyes and see memories long forgotten dancing to the tune. a cello warms your soul like a long drink of whiskey as you hear of the devil lurking in the wings. but have no fear, tonight he sings Irish drinking songs and loops his arms in yours. dance a jig as the music plays faster and the crowds blur across your eyes. rising and falling they all play along in a game of ring around the rosy. you join hands and skip to the beat of a tired &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;accordion&lt;/span&gt; and ever eager drum. your heart skips fast and you smile in response to the beauty of the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6640242999624173402-1198486930208539099?l=peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/feeds/1198486930208539099/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6640242999624173402&amp;postID=1198486930208539099' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/1198486930208539099'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/1198486930208539099'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/2007/12/slinte.html' title='Sláinte'/><author><name>*Kassidy*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15106511513760233715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hcy_XDZ59RY/S8Jl7jFxQZI/AAAAAAAAATI/FQFtEWOmKMA/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6640242999624173402.post-5349635723809828898</id><published>2007-11-07T20:18:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-07T20:34:12.153-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='beauty'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='music'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fire'/><title type='text'>Singing Praise</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;You tell me I'm beautiful when I sing out Hallelujah. Hallelujah. I think you're beautiful when you smile as you strum your guitar and gaze out the window at leaves turning green in the spring sky. You sing about a girl you used to love as you sing for the one you love for now. I sit curled in our blue love seat, blankets surrounding my every inch and watch as you throw another log on the fire. The heat intensifies as I wonder and wait for how long you will stay. You look into my eyes and I see the question asked without any words. I don't know the answer so I look away, watching burning embers light. You begin to play another sad song and I feel an emptiness not found for quite some time. It's disappointing that it has made it's way back into my heart. I watch your fingers run against the strings imagining they run against my skin. It is too much to think of right now so I close my eyes and clutch fleece fabric flung around me. It becomes silent and I feel your breath against me and I open my eyes and you are right there. You tell me I'm beautiful and throw another log on the flame. Hallelujah.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6640242999624173402-5349635723809828898?l=peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/feeds/5349635723809828898/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6640242999624173402&amp;postID=5349635723809828898' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/5349635723809828898'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/5349635723809828898'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/2007/11/singing-praise.html' title='Singing Praise'/><author><name>*Kassidy*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15106511513760233715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hcy_XDZ59RY/S8Jl7jFxQZI/AAAAAAAAATI/FQFtEWOmKMA/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6640242999624173402.post-7770839524429619932</id><published>2007-10-27T11:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-27T11:19:29.996-07:00</updated><title type='text'>untitled playlist</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;this place is a prison&lt;br /&gt;watching out winter windows&lt;br /&gt;and I can't stand me now but&lt;br /&gt;do you love me now?&lt;br /&gt;accidental sex leads to&lt;br /&gt;miscommunication&lt;br /&gt;but human behavior makes us believe&lt;br /&gt;there is hope for us.&lt;br /&gt;in the blue light you say you see roses&lt;br /&gt;and have a feeling of chasing cars&lt;br /&gt;as I play hide and seek with your smile&lt;br /&gt;maybe we will find the road to joy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6640242999624173402-7770839524429619932?l=peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/feeds/7770839524429619932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6640242999624173402&amp;postID=7770839524429619932' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/7770839524429619932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/7770839524429619932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/2007/10/untitled-playlist.html' title='untitled playlist'/><author><name>*Kassidy*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15106511513760233715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hcy_XDZ59RY/S8Jl7jFxQZI/AAAAAAAAATI/FQFtEWOmKMA/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6640242999624173402.post-8142107842223467514</id><published>2007-10-17T22:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-17T22:58:24.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'>O Seu Adeus</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family: lucida grande;"&gt;He slowly sipped from his rum and coke. It was strong enough to make him grimace but was it strong enough to make him forget? His lean back melted into his old worn pumpkin spice chair, stolen from his grandfather's basement 10 years ago. It was full of  memories - some  good, some  bad, some innocent enough and others to make one blush. She had hated that chair. Said it was God-awful ugly and how could he let it sit out in the open like that? He took another sip, trying to drink her away. Long rough fingers felt for his cigarettes, he slid one out and grabbed his lighter. She always disliked his habit, yet had bought him this silver engraved Zippo for an anniversary. His fingertips caressed the writing, faded yet so full of meaning. He lit the cigarette, knowing full well she would have something to say about it, if she were there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Well, you're not here, are you? So I can smoke the whole damn pack if I want to, fall asleep and burn the house down, and what are you going to do? Nothing. Nothing at all..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He closed his eyes and saw her. Eyes as bright as summer's morning, hair flowing behind her as she walked. Her smile could bring anyone to their knees. Remembered how her skin felt, her smell, her laughter, her lips. His eyes shut tighter as he tried to erase her but he could not. She was too much a part of his life, even now as he tried to push her away. It wasn't fair, he felt, to be in this house alone while she left him. He didn't  want to be alone. He wanted her here, in this homely chair, with his worker's arms tucked around her frail tragic body. His gray eyes bubbled over with salty tears and he immediately wiped them away. He lifted his glass to his lips and gulped the alcohol down, feeling the burn rush through his soul. Unsteadily standing he put out the cigarette and turned off the light. His feet quietly shuffled down the dark hall, past old photos smiling in the night. He lay down on his cold lonely bed and  whispered into the surrounding blackness.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Goodnight love. I miss you"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He smiled for her and once again closed his eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6640242999624173402-8142107842223467514?l=peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/feeds/8142107842223467514/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6640242999624173402&amp;postID=8142107842223467514' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/8142107842223467514'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/8142107842223467514'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/2007/10/o-seu-adeus.html' title='O Seu Adeus'/><author><name>*Kassidy*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15106511513760233715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hcy_XDZ59RY/S8Jl7jFxQZI/AAAAAAAAATI/FQFtEWOmKMA/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6640242999624173402.post-1328959031370258396</id><published>2007-10-10T21:58:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-10T22:11:44.545-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='shiver'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='clothing'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='summer'/><title type='text'>for a fall</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;Leaves turn gold as darkness envelopes life earlier now. Summer skies so full of promise drain to sleet, harsh and cold. Flirtatious wind kisses your neck, a playful lover's touch. Waves violently reach to freeze your soul while shivers run down spines. So wrap yourself in sheep's clothing, blowing breathes of life into endless air. Feel your fingers numb with chill, stuffed into worn weathered pockets. Watch as birds take flight - an ingenious idea to follow the sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6640242999624173402-1328959031370258396?l=peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/feeds/1328959031370258396/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6640242999624173402&amp;postID=1328959031370258396' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/1328959031370258396'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/1328959031370258396'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/2007/10/for-fall.html' title='for a fall'/><author><name>*Kassidy*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15106511513760233715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hcy_XDZ59RY/S8Jl7jFxQZI/AAAAAAAAATI/FQFtEWOmKMA/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6640242999624173402.post-5123524262883929269</id><published>2007-08-30T11:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-08-31T08:08:16.984-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='journal entry'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='firsts'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='game'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='wasted time'/><title type='text'>Charlie (a letter to someone)</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:lucida grande;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;The day I first saw you I was in deep blue standing in a cornflower yellow kitchen with cracked linoleum. I stared out the small window and you caught my eye beneath that tree next to the rusty swings, throwing a football around with the boys. You were unknown to me but a presence I desperately wanted to feel. You became the substance of all thought, the subject of many a journal entry and heartbroken poetry. I could go back and tell you the date I met you; the first time you remembered my name; the first time you touched me, even ever so briefly.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A higher &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;existence&lt;/span&gt; is how I perceived you for so long. It took years to realize you were actually on an equal plane with myself. You were no longer someone completely and utterly out of reach - maybe I, even &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; myself, could be with you! The years continued to come and go as they do. Girlfriends did the same. And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;every time&lt;/span&gt; I promised myself "He will see me this time. He will notice I am here. He will see me this time..." &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Every time&lt;/span&gt; I promised myself "I will stop noticing him. I will get over him. I will not cry..." And the years continued to come and go as they do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We became close, we fell away again. It was a game of hot potato - hold on for a moment and it feels warm and safe, but hold on too long and you get burned ... and I kept getting burned. Friends would say "get over it, move on, you can do better anyway" and my head would say "I know, I know" but my heart would say "not yet, there's still a chance".  Gradually I came to the conclusion that maybe these friends of mine knew more then my heart did ... why waste my time dreaming over this person who refuses to see me anything other then just another girl?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this is it. My last entry dedicated to you, finally seeing you (us?) as how it really was, how it really is and how we will always be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here is my goodbye.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/6640242999624173402-5123524262883929269?l=peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/feeds/5123524262883929269/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=6640242999624173402&amp;postID=5123524262883929269' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/5123524262883929269'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/6640242999624173402/posts/default/5123524262883929269'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://peanutbutterpieces.blogspot.com/2007/08/charlie-letter-to-someone.html' title='Charlie (a letter to someone)'/><author><name>*Kassidy*</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/15106511513760233715</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='24' height='32' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Hcy_XDZ59RY/S8Jl7jFxQZI/AAAAAAAAATI/FQFtEWOmKMA/S220/018.JPG'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry></feed>
