I've got those pearls. Threaded, one by one:
Of love, of lust, Of caresses—
Of sorrow, pain— Of happiness.
Now I'm alone, And will be, forever! Life went thus.
It is too late for, Any sort of ... Foolish crush.
And I won't fool myself, And hold up to— Ridicule.
Indian summer, Shall not be my season.
The sweetest things, Love deeply— Yet leave, And fade.
Lucky them, Who can resist, The temptation, Of adventure—
And resort, To the secure shores, Of experience, And truth.
I've got those pearls, For my heart, To remain, With me.
No more gracious, The universe could be—
And love unto me.—
— Carla Fischer, “From My Pencil Case” carlafischer.tumblr.com