It's like being shot and stabbed in the gut. Left for dead and finding that she never existed, so the comfort of her isn't even there. The security of slumber flits away like a waterbug. The living novel tore all the remaining pages out of my life with fading illusions. All that's left... is my heart in my hands.

I can't breathe.

Boy, when she's in a lovin' groove, there's no stopping her.

Not that I was complaining. :)

I hate it when we have company, though. There should be a law against that. All visitors must leave for x number of hours while the groovin' must be taken care of. Wind up the little toy soldier and send him packing!

It must be written and done.

This journal is a culmination of prior works, current musings and general diary entries. I enjoy creative writing, provocative words and the occasional thought-provoking image ( Read more... )