nothing she could tell me
nothing she could tell me she said it with anger and a three-martini lisp sat out on the balcony of the old new orleans hotel it hit knocked the breath…
behind this window of sorrow
behind this window of sorrow my life was splintering in a shower of sparks and fear lifeblood coursing ever faster and higher ayn rand's anthem was preaching words spilling into…
in the moment of leaving
in the moment of leaving i knew that i could love her more fully if we were not lovers that my healing had been complete her love had given me…
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