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

2002-03-02 - 10:23 a.m.

He was a poet, and a wonderful listener. He was so kind, and interested in all the mundane details of my life. He seemed to always be lying in wait, for me. When I would come home to the pastel comfort of my softly lit room, and curl up into the gentle chiming of his words, he would always Instant message me, and say things like " Finally! I have been waiting for you! Where were you ?? I missed you! " I would smile, like a fool, beaming into the glass monitor, staring at a few dancing letters, that seemed to be so much more than just random juxtopositioning of consanants and vowels. Elusive poet boy, became my wonderful friend. He was a constant source of emotional support, my beacon in the darkly webbed corners of my life. I became soothed and attached and rooted into a fond affection for him. The first time that we ever spoke on the phone, I was almost afraid, because I did not know what to expect. What if his voice was harsh or thick with brooklyn'ese. But I was wrong, he had the kindest softest voice, one that makes you melt into oozing pools of sentiment. He is a girl's best friend, an excellent listener, someone who can answer thoughtfully and sincerely and softly, with a great capacity to flirt, thus making one feel supported and understood and just a little bit sexy. Obviously, now that I had heard the sound of elusive boy's voice, I wanted so badly to look into his eyes, and see if they were as kind and gentle and all knowing, as I imagined. We discussed all the possibilities, and my fears were deep deep chasms, that contracted beneath my eager surface, but my desire to look into his eyes, far exceded my fear that to meet each other, would ruin the spell of such a beautiful friendship. and so, on a perfect summerblendedintoautumn day, my elusive boy came to me. My elusive boy, was just that, a tall, well built boy, with the big pawed hands of a man, and an aura of sweetness. Standing before me, wearing a huge smile and khaki pants, I wanted to throw myself into his arms. I noticed the careless way his academic bag slung over one shoulder and as he moved closer, I could feel his twinkling brown eyes staring into me, the silver thread of his gaze sewing itself into the fire rimmed green of mine. Capturing the kaleidescoped reflection of his huge grin, all my fears slid away, and I ran into his open arms. My elusive boy was just so beautiful. He is a wonderful hugging boy, he crushes against you, and folds you into him, until your hearts are aligned, and the beating echo tells you that you are ~finally~ home. and on that long lost perfect day, The sun was blissfully gazing down upon us, and the warm fall breeze rushed past us, like restless children in a school yard. We strolled around my small green town, and laughed a bit to remind ourselves, that the person before us, was the silent voice in the glass box of words that sang us to sleep each night. My lullabye boy was standing next to me. My savage beautiful poet boy, had come to hug me, and hold my hand. The hours passed quickly, we spent some time, sitting on a park bench. He mischievously carved my name into the grafitted and deeply scarred wood. He wrote a silly school boy thing ~" wendy was here" ~and I mock scolded him. The old ladies in fancy church hats sitting side by side in the park smiled at us, knowingly, drifting down the path of their own youthful sentiment. I gave him a gift to open, and he carefully unwrapped it. I watched his hands, with awe, because unlike me, this boy had great reserves of patience. I tend to rip open everything voraciciously, tear into a long awaited letter right by the mailbox, eat my sandwich hurriedly in the car, while running errands, shred wrapping paper like a tasmanian devil in my insatiable greed to unveil the treasure beneath. But, this elusive boy carefully unsealed the edges, and undressed the gift. With precise skill he slipped it out of it's florentine paper dress, and ran his fingers delicately along the spine of the books. I had given him the Griffin and Sabine Trilogy, by Nick Bantock. He turned it over, and slowly examined it, and smiled in wonder,at the stunning pictures, and oohhed and ahhed with sincerity and glistened with the pleasure of a gift well recieved. He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek and said "Thank you so very much. I love it. I will always think of you when I read it." and the kiss on my cheek felt smooth and cool and as perfect as the summerautumn breeze that followed us, and lifted my long skirt in swirling ways as we continued to walk , trying not to think of the silk blue midnight that was looming, and would put an end to this perfect day. As night fell in gradually deepening layers of blue, first twilight sent us in search of a place to eat. We decided upon a sushi restaurant, and sat down at the obscenely busy kitchen counter, where you can watch the theatre performance of sushi masters hacking and wacking tiny fish into exquisite rolled up treasures. This was my first time eating sushi. and I let him order for me, and sitting next to him, my knee touching his, I told myself to remember this moment. because this is a lovely and innocent and ripening with beauty kind of memory. Alas, it is true, because even from the polished distance of five years, it shimmers now, more than ever. and so our bizarre sushi boats were delivered before us, and trepadaciously, I dipped into mine. Unexpertly weilding the chopsticks, I tried to get the sushi roll from the boat to the sauce, and into my perfectly pink glossed mouth. only, it had other plans, and apparently wanted to return to the ocean from whence it came, for the dense little sushi roll, tumbled from my suspended in time, chopsticks, and landed with an audible plop into the little soy sauce pool, which caused a great soy sauce splashing which landed in the unsuspecting khaki lap of elusive boy. I gasped in horror and glanced down to survey the damage, and without much more thought, began to desperately mop up the soy sauce stain, brushing frantically with my linen napkin, and then, I will never forget, looking up into the eyes of elusive boy and seeing a mischievous and amused slightly wicked smile. and that was when I noticed, my hands in his lap. My face flamed red, and I decided that maybe I should let elusive boy finish, as It would seem the soy sauce had landed a little too close to his lap. I excused myself and went to the bathroom, and washed my face with water, as if that simple act could cleanse me from having made a fool of myself. When I returned, elusive boy was smiling and said it was fine, and then it lapsed into one joke after another.. and he deemed me the most sushi fun girl he had ever known. and with a naughty smirk, asked me if I would like to finish mopping it up. We fell into easy amused banter, and the meal ended much to quickly. So, we paid, and walked out the door, but still had one last hour, before the train back to New York, carried him home. So, we ended up at a small dark lit cafe, for a farewell coffee and dessert. Elusive boy, once mistook my " I miss you !!" for the word, tiramisu. and ever since then we often ended notes and conversations with " tira mis U" and on this now hyacinth silk blue evening, we lingered our goodbyes, over coffee and a shared slice of Tiramisu. We kept laughing because neither one of us, particularily liked this Italian dessert, but dipping dueling forks into chocolate drizzled puffs of whip cream should be an olympic sport. It was a perfect ending to the perfect day, and the night was deepening into an even darker chinois blue, and the train was looming on the tracks, full of disinterested weary patrons,staring past us and elusive boy, grabbed me and hugged me on the train platform, where we began, and he kissed me on both cheeks, and then he pushed aside my hair, exposing my alabaster white skin to the moonlight, and kissed me, so softly on the neck and then disappeared into the carnivorous closing jaws of the metro north train. I could feel the wet stain of that soft kiss on my neck, and I touched the spot and felt a feathery warmth spreading throughout me and it was my kiss goodbye and my kiss hello and everything in between.

old starlight - new starbright

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