The pages are still blank, but there is a miraculous feeling of the words being there, written in invisible ink and clamoring to become visible. ~Vladimir Nabakov

Friday, July 18, 2008


A fool I have been for many years now yes,

to let my bleeding heart be yours to dress.

Garb made of thorns, broken glass and ivy,

laced to perfection with blame and envy.

Such wounded heart will take time to mend,

heartless or not I will no longer pretend.

A time will come when your eyes will see,

choose to thrive daily and to be pain free.

For the world I live in is not from reach,

it is a vision of love I proudly teach.

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