unicidades

As mascaras sempre caem. Por mais que a gente as esconda. Imensa tristeza se assomou a minha porta. E por alguma razao que nao entendo, eu a deixei entrar e sentar-se a minha mesa. Convidada de honra.

Chegaste. Sei que chegaste. Vejo os sinais. Toco as palmas das tuas maos e te encontro. Finalmente estamos juntos. Reunidos.

small hands somewhere i have never travelled,gladly beyond any experience,your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility:whose texture compels me with the color of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens;only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands e.e...

San Francisco here I come!

I am reading Breakfast With Buddha, by Roland Merullo. Time is flying. It seems like I have been here ages ago. And yet there's this new me within the old. Bertrand Russell. Passion ressurges. Calmly between our kisses and the surprise of you in me. Like we knew. You fit me. The touch of your mild and soft skin. The paleness of your music. And the shyness of my body in redemption finding yours. And then my tiny body occupying the spaces you left for me. Your back, the lines of your hands, your lips. The mystery you are. This puzzle you are. I like your passion. It suits me well in this desert my life has been. Your bring water with your kisses. You write your passion all over me. Let's discover you say. Me, a scared cat who looks incredulous. Hiding in the garden. I am a beast who taints your body with my love. Someone who holds you in the darkness of your room hoping you wouldn't let me go. Maybe this time my passion will thrive and turn into something. We danced Di Sar...

Dear Diary, I turned 35 this week. My brother didn't remember. I had a wonderful week and birthday. I got the most precious gift. Thanks Mom.