Dearest Gilly, Sometimes I feel there is a hole inside me. An emptiness that, at times, seems to burn. I think if you lifted my heart to your ear, you could probably hear the ocean. And the moon tonight, there's a circle around it, a sign of trouble not far behind. I have this dream of being whole. Of not going to sleep each night wanting. But still, sometimes when the wind is warm or the crickets sing, I dream of a love that even time will lie down and be still for. I just want someone to love me. I want to be seen. I don't know. Maybe I've had my happiness. I don't want to believe it but there is no man, Gilly, only that moon.
Only that moon...
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"Death makes angels of us all, and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws" -J.D. Morrison
times since July 13, 1997
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