I've Always Had A Weakness For Lost

I Was Never One To Patiently Pick Up Broken Fragments And Glue Them Together Again And Tell Myself That The Mended Whole Was As Good As New. What Is Broken Is Broken - And I'd Rather Remember It As It Was At Its Best Than Mend It And See The Broken Places As Long As I Lived.

She Was Darkness And He Was Darkness And There Had Never Been Anything Before This Time, Only Darkness And His Lips Upon Her. She Tried To Speak And His Mouth Was Over Hers Again. Suddenly She Had A Wild Thrill Such As She Had Never Known; Joy, Fear, Madness, Excitement, Surrender To Arms That Were Too Strong, Lips Too Bruising, Fate That Moved Too Fast.

It's A Curse - This Not Wanting To Look On Naked Realities. Until The War, Life Was Never More Real To Me Than A Shadow Show On A Curtain. And I Preferred It So. I Do Not Like The Outlines Of Things To Be Too Sharp. I Like Them Gently Blurred, A Little Hazy.

If He's Forgotten Me, I'll Make Him Remember Me. I'll Make Him Want Me Again.

It's Not Because I've -what Is The Phrase? -'swept You Off Your Feet' By My -er- Ardor?