more writings from my past....

Those eyes tranquilized me into a bliss full of fluffy clouds and red hearts.  The words fit him that I was starting at....Sexy...yet Shy.

Funny..yet mysterious..

I seemed to play a game..trying to make him laugh was the winning point.  When I succeeded, it made my soul smile to itself.

As to why I do not know. I guess instinct for we are all born with such a thing.  That is how a dog finds its way home, a kitten never loses its mother, and a child knows the cry of another baby.  We are all one in a web of myserious smiles.  Forever playing with ones hearts whether it be good or bad.  Yet learning the entire time as to why things happen and for what reasons.

     Words just flow out of my mind right now while I type them.  Music so calming taking my body to its comfort and memories.  Always a song attached to memories...some comforting and others sending shivers through my body.

I am never able to let go of memories.  Of all the people I meet I am saddened when I no longer know that person for everyone I meet I connect with.  

Chow my autumn princess. Who wears the vibrance of fall in her hair, and carries it in her heart.

3-19-02
My life is but a book.  With pages worn and withered.  It tells many secrets.  Secrets of the past, of the present, of the future.  I memory of myself as a child, swinging on my Olympic swing set with the big slide.  I was singing "zippedi do da zippdey day, my on my what a wonderful day"...the sun was shining.. I was SO happy.  Uncontrollable laughter seemd to radiate off my body, the sun seemed to reach down and kiss my lips.  Like a buttercup.  Bright yellows.  Tickles...
My book is so easily read if you just look closely at the print.  Its is not printed in English.  But in a language long ago lost, only found by the world of poets.  The people who see others for who they really are.  Who break down societys butterfinger ideal's.  The one's who look close... They see who I am...they can read my book.  The pages wear thin at parts.  Stuck together in the middle some lost and torn out, and yet the ones in the back, not even written upon yet.