Missing All The Ink.
Throughout my life, I’ve opened my heart, life, being and shared everything. I’ve shared my story, my struggles, my hope, my light, my food, my money, my home etc.
This has been wonderful and brutal. I’ve survived in space between these moments, good and bad.
I am Smart, Sensual, Caring, Giving, Surviving, Tolerant and Often Confused.
I believe in good. I care about people. I was born to nurture.
Call it what you like. I don’t define it. It’s who I am. I give without expecting anything in return. I don’t want to change. Bad people can not rob me of my heart, rob me of me.
I’ve struggled in this, in this journey, when others want more than there is to give.
I’m hurting tonight, struggling. Who are we anyway? Does it matter, my hugs in a cold dark night? I send it all to you, even if there is nothing left for me.
Missing all the ink, and mess. Missing the parts of me that splintered off and grew anew.
xxoo
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