I live out loud, I think I always have. My heart is big and tough and open. But I go through it, a smaller, not so destructive, version of my mother's madness. Sensitive, perceptive, sentimental, smart, creative, but not always real.

I remember my childhood.  

I remember what I thought love was.

Then, I lost it, for a time.  I did not want it.

I just wanted to play.

But I moved on.

Alone, and smiling.

Then I heard his song.

His love of love.

Our beautiful confusion.

Guarded.

Then a moment.

A beautiful moment.

Ecstatic.

Lazy days.

Loving nights.

Lust.

Fear.

Dishonesty.

Anger.

Run.

Time.

But not much.

Return.

Honesty.

Courage.

Discovery.

Friendship.