Barfly N. You Have The Ability To

I Have No Idea How He Knows When I Need Him. We Can Go Weeks Without Speaking, And Then, When My Blue Moods Threaten To Turn Black, He Will Show Up And Tell Me My Moods Are Azure Indigo Cerulean Cobalt Periwinkle And Suddenly The Blue Will Not Seem So Dark, More Like The Color Of A Noon-bright Sky. He Brings The Sun.

Maybe There Is Hope In The Fragments, That What Is Lost Can Always Be Filled In By Someone Who Knows.

Placid, Adj. Sometimes I Love It When We Just Lie On Our Backs, Gaze Off, Stay Still.

The First Sentence Of The Truth Is Always The Hardest. Each Of Us Had A First Sentence, And Most Of Us Found The Strength To Say It Out Loud To Someone Who Deserved To Hear It. What We Hoped, And What We Found, Was That The Second Sentence Of The Truth Is Always Easier Than The First, And The Third Sentence Is Even Easier Than That. Suddenly You Are Speaking The Truth In Paragraphs, In Pages. The Fear, The Nervousness, Is Still There, But It Is Joined By A New Confidence. All Along, You've Used The First Sentence As A Lock. But Now You Find That It's The Key.

You're Giving Up. You're Slipping Into Being Miserable And If You Are Being Miserable, Then It's All About You Again. But It's Not All About You. Love Doesn't Work That Way.