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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.

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