Wednesday, September 10, 2008
...In the secret garden of her dreams...
On her Own Sometimes… when she’s alone she feels once again born naked…barefooted clueless spirited crawling inside the garden of secrecy and silence She screams… very loud without a sound under the muted shadows of obscurity feigning for ears nearby to capture the obscure stillness of her lips zipped by her grief She made believe… someone understood the rhythm of her moods that she is loved by feelings not by words On her own she feigned being born unharmed like before cared for and never...
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