she dreamed the same dream night after night~We are an orchestra of one, we are a majesty unveiling, we are newly born lovers, christening one another with mouths and hands and seeking tongues. We are everything and nothing~ Night is falling. night is falling. and I am drowning. in your arms. I am safe again. I am safe again. You surface me, and cling to me, night is falling and I am in my place again. above you, beneath you, wherever it pleases you so... oh my love, I am home again. My heart has been reborn again. the night is falling. and so am I . Falling for you ( into you, above you, through you). night is falling. night is falling. and so am i. so am i. always for you. for you.

blustarswendy3

~random vintage wendchymes~

prayerful of dreams - 2008-06-28
preschool princess - 2008-06-16
life with my sweetheart - 2008-04-29
the fast approach of four - 2008-04-12
lighting up my own life - 2008-03-08

2002-01-23 - 11:03 a.m.

* Part 3*

This is you, 6 yrs later, on a snowy wintery road, in Connecticut, about to careen into an oversize Tractor Trailor. This is you wondering how you came to be here. This is your life in flashes, fragments thrown out of sequence. This is the movie of your life, shown without sequins. These are your thoughts scattering like pennies tossed into a glass jar. This is your heart in your chest, ceasing to beat. Fear silences everything. If you ever wondered what death sounds like, well,this is that imminent moment, completely devoid of any sound.This is you in total silence. These are your thoughts , which seem so very very muted. Your past so close, that you can still feels it's palpable pulse, your future, so untouchable and so very, very far away. ( like your voice in a paper cup) This is the split second, where your life is coming apart at the seems. Memories falling like feathers in the air, blinding white hot flashes of panic. and this, this is you, utterly silent.

This is the sum of your life, these are the times you lied, These are the times you cried. Naughty schoolgirl, mischievous child.These are the times, when you tried. Tried to be nice. Tried to be good. Tried to take care of everyone, these are the times that you failed, these are the times,that you let yourself down. This is you trying to save the world, this is you not saving yourself.This is you being to harsh on the girl who became a woman, who hides inside the heart of a tiny girl. This is you, not loving yourself enough. This is you chasing all the wrong kinds of love, and hiding from the one that could be real. This is your mouth, in the shape of a consuming O, as you tremble on the edge of an egyptian carved bed, with a glowing boy arched above you and years later, this is a boy, who rips your breathfilled hand, out of your painted mouth ,and gives you back your rubied voice. This is you, screaming into starlight.This is you sighing until dawn. This is you, aching to remember. This is you, breaking, to forget. This is the sum of your life. This is you, trying desperately to grasp something, ~anything~, to hold onto.

This is you trying to remember if your father taught you to turn into a skid, and then try to regain control, or should you, attempt to counterbalance, by overcorrecting, and hopefully skid the other way? This is you deciding it is better to hit a tree, than smash head on, into a looming truck. This is you, wondering why you never did any of the things you always *said* that you were going to do. This is you, regretting the hours, you spent shopping, wondering why you never saved the elephants, or wrote that screenplay, or signed up at WWW.VolunteerMatch.Com.

This is you not caring that you had cheated on your diet, this is you wishing you had spent more time with your father, because his love, was an ever warm cashmere blanket, that you were always snuggling into. This is you taking your father for granted. This is you speaking to your mother every day, but never really thinking to call your father, out of the blue and talk to him about anything or nothing at all. This is you never finding out the colour of his dreams. This is you, realizing how very much you love him. This is you remembering the soft, southern way, he always called you

" punkin"

These are the people you love, flashing before you. I love you mommy. I love you Daddy. I love you Alyssa.I love you Andy. I love you Annaka. I love you Erin, I love you Brett. I love you Tara I love you Bradlee. I love you Brandon. I love you April. I love you Marissa. I love you Grandma. I love you Uncle Frankie. I love you Erica. I love you Lindsay. I love you Austin. I love you big white dog.( and yes I love you, too) These are the faces of laughing friends, and boys you loved and shouldn't have loved. I love/d you, ice boy. I loved you mein kleinen schmetterling.I don't hate you anymore angryboy.

These are the moments of your life. This is your life in silence, passing you by. This is you Living in Connecticut, in a great Big fairy tale castle, living a life that does not belong to you, loving children who do not belong to you. Nothing is real, only your penetrable lonlieness. Because everyone else grew up, and into there own lives. All of your friends, passed you by, all of your brothers and sisters, went from under your wing, to standing taller than you. This is you, remembering that you meant to get a life. This is you, thinking this is about to be the end of your life.

This is your first kiss, in a tree house, delivered wetly by an awkward freckle faced boy, in the 4th grade. This is him sealing his eternal affection, by giving you his beloved pet turtle, then promptly bursting into tears and asking for it back. This is you, at home, alone,sobbing, on the night of your prom, because you were too tall, for any boy to call. This is you, sleeping in satin, night after night because it feels like a prom dress, the one you never got to wear. This is you sketching dresses, endlessly, because you dream over and over of the perfect pink dress. This is you thinking you are going to be a fashion designer for all the sad girls, who never went to their proms. This is you, catching fistfuls of tiny frogs, at the old mud pond, that summer you spent in Rhode Island. It was the only time that you were ever a tom boy. This is you, throwing a boy in silk boxers out of your New York City hotel room. This is you, in a silk gown, down on your hands and knees scrubbing spilt red wine out of light shag carpeting. This is him walking away, covered in your shimmering bodyglitter and smelling of regret. This is you holding your softly mewing, newborn niece, for the first time,as tears run down your cheek, because you can't help wondering if this is the closest you will ever get, to holding your own baby. This is you flying first class, knowing that you do not belong there, because you were born into economy.This is the face of the first grade teacher that you loved so much, and thought was the most beautifulest woman in the world. This is you and your best friend, driving on endless road trips, listening to Disintigration. This is the two of you, singing your lives and losing the map somewhere in Germany, and laughing the whole way.

This is the car, somehow not skidding into the truck. This is the car, evening out. This is the moment sound crashes through , and you hear a mindless song on the radio, The world looks normal. Everything is just as it was.The world is unchanged. The truck passes by. This is your life, not ending.This is nothing as it was before. This is your life, changed. This is your life, no longer passing you by. This is the thumping sound of your heart thrashing in your chest. This is you, stunned and bruised emotionally. This is you, starting to untense, and feeling the smoothing, soothing release of fear ungripping it's long, gnarled, icy white fingers from your body.

This is the relief of surrendering back into the physical world. This is your life, in sounds and thoughts. This is your life, not passing you by. This is your life...wait, This is not your life, this is MY life, as a voice in your head. This is my silence,dripping into yours. This is me, thanking you, for stopping by, for not passing me by. This is me, whispering to you " Thank You"

This is me. This is the sum of my life. This is my yesterday. This is tomorrow dangling before me. This is the gift of the promise of another ~snowy streets, sunburned days tear filled angst ridden, lonely nights, pink prom dress sketching, wrong boy loving, best friend laughing, butterfly chasing, touched by life, marked by death, beautiful whitecow naming, big sky dreaming, under stained glass offering,passionately glowing, swimming into new lovers taking, closing down, opening up, meeting new faces, going bright new places, loving and unloving, tasting of bitter and lingering in sweet, re-lighting the flames,(you and I maybe someday) laying in the rain, with another glittering boy, as yet, unfound , but still believing in, another first kiss ~gathering~ our awed silence, wildflower seeds scattering beneath the ( streaming with moonlight) windows of * all * my shimmering, spinning tomorrows.

It is up to me to fill all the endless spaces. This is me, accountable for my life. This is you, not judging, This is you knowing that we are all, paper doll cut outs, of our past, just trying to live our lives, the best we can.

old starlight - new starbright

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