“My fault, my failure, is not in the passions I have, but in my lack of control of them.
Take the hand that never leaves. Take the spirit that will always see.
running and never looking. stopping but always moving.
she sits in the midst of magical manic.
denial or delirious, it is all the same in the place
she calls sane. one day the rain will fall, the petals will drift and
she will be lying in reflections of the sunlight that kissed her face.
