Saturday, December 21, 2002
"She looks at me through the window that I gaze into
A distant vision now, shadows of memory forming
Her tears fresh and just shed, paint her crystal eyes.
Is it love that causes those tears??
Myself, always ugly in my minds eye
Never worthy of a womans love
age and innocence wrapped around her so well.
Her beuty makes my heart sweel, and my head sway.
Why does such a goddess cry for me?
Is it only that her heart is so big
Am I that older brother figure to her.
The true friend to give her comfort
Is this ugly form below lust?
Why do I sit and ask these questions?
Why do I wonder about such love?
True passions show their forms with time."
I miss being loved.
3:01 PM
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