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Drums, Pa, United States
My heart is on my sleeve and my soul is on paper. Please be kind to those around you, we are all glass.

The richness of sybolism

The richness of sybolism
Telling my story with no words

Friday, December 24, 2010

December love

Finally your very own love song.
You are open. You let me open you, look inside, poke around and move your insides, do my first living autopsy. You spoke through pain, over the loudness of your broken hearts jagged edges trying to close before I entered.
You let me hold you, those beautiful broken pieces you think are ugly. I assure you of your lovliness,the kindest I have ever seen.
You know how to love with no instruction just perfect intuition. I am so hard to hold onto, slippery, needy but wonderfully rewarding in the right habitat. You know the how and why of my ways, the crooked parts of my heart.
You Listen to the music I love, find a way to make it your own. The immense  weight of your hands and the light of your eyes matched only by the life giving perfect timing of your words. Writing, loving, jiggling, singing, oddness, hopefulness. Giving love and attention to the bullied is what made me come into a self I now adore.
Real estate in my heart is abundant because of you but the private bungalow in my soul is all you, forever. My promise to you changes with your needs but what remains is unconditional and steadfast. In the end there is no such thing as lonely.

Thursday, December 16, 2010


It takes loads of restraint and is almost humanly impossible to not use the super powers of evil inside.  I possess a wrecking ball poised at your front door and to not walk up and ring the bell with the force of the index requires super human effort.  At times I regret my determination to be different, to be swift and fair.  I want to be a blunt, mean, hurtful bitch to equal your lack of consideration for this heart that counts your every breath.  This heart that carries the super glue and shop vac for the sadness and injustices done to you.  Your range on the consideration spectrum is nothing short of miraculous, it confounds me.  You are really never here when it's crucial.  You gave, at best, some pretty words.   Even when capable, not even a word to see how I am.  I turn into a needy, selfish, clingy baby with no respect who tantrums for attention.  It's not me but it's all I have.  Why do I care so much?  Why can't I just be honest about it, lower my expectations, not need you so much?  The truth is the break feels good but I want you jumping through hoops to get to me and you are not.  Yeah, this is healthy.  But if we are who we say we are we should be able to handle an honest conversation.  My fear is that we won't, we give us more credit than we deserve.

September love

I fear the way this will affect you.  Much more than my own consequences of shoving my feelings down into the overstuffed, invalid box.  You put a lot of mental and verbal energy into keeping me where you want me.  With your beauty you make it impossible to move.  You want a bleeding, loving heart right where you put her.. last.  She cannot move or the consequences which I now see as manipulation; pull this altruistic, fundamental love and resolve of not abandoning you back to my statue place.  I want and hope that two souls so enmeshed could navigate this painful but thruthful dialogue.  In reality I fear I won't be pretty enough for you to stay.  I'm in, are you?  Do you even have time to be in?  No, it's not all a facade.  The fundamentals are like the walls of Jericho.  Will you stay with me to discuss the fake, the hard to say?  Will you be willing as I am to lock ourselves in until we burn away the worthless and build a bond no man can ever touch?  The answer I so very sadly fear is no.  I will be reminded of my place my lack of significance that I am nothing to you as you are to me.  That is a monumental hurt I may never recover from... but we both bricked that wall.  Sadly this is a never ending dream that consumes me to which I will hear the simple and crushing ending blow to my beautiful decision.  "Baby you know I can't, I have no time.  I want to be there but...."