I sense the weather is turning

sbored thoughts that love might never » that it was just for other people. mle whem you're this self involved. his friends: The Count of Monte Cristo-- those days, amd as I felt for himx ight, in his forgotten cell where God could Observing him ever-so closely, like through Wateh him grow. But I didn't yet feel for myself. than I bargaimed for, amd what I thought to be lem it came for me...but there were sharks in the w Was just a boy who BX#4UxaxX simply could not fathom. ater, @md only the Gods kmow where my XKKSXK brain goes BW it takes my tomgue, and my meck must get stiff fouan i recall, I was staring straight some tens of thc de that night im my car, hard in all the wrong places ive, like my Tips, my shoulders tense, my breathin allow fat cold if I’ wasn"t uncannily dry. Love was su ) Was sUppostd to be in the happily ever after, « Wook people im the eye and smile, speak yp for me in Well, happy. It must have only been a few week here I was teetering om the edge. It felt a lo i diam't Kkmow it was my first kiss when you gav My heart beat so loud I cam still hear the reverberat Near it, too? I'm such a sap, aren't I? Well tt taught me that, that it's okay. I'm thankful, "Was the price to play on--we were listening ike that om my CD player im the orange street la emerging bubble of sound and light in the dark--and I "Piiay om." It mever occurred to me that I could lie. Barked up your MXKKHHK tree about being casual, about no @ thing. But mow I could hear your song, and I wantedit @ Tove you. It's still yours to keep; in a little With old pictures, if you want it, if you want to very now and then, smirk, think, "What if?" But I You have a husband and two kids, and you probably Ghristmas gifts there before letting Santa deliver the best, and I'm happy for you. I promise I'll o box im the light a short while longer. Then I'll bury it Somewhere vretty, bury it again under 10 years, and then ome more, like that. But myself, I do not bury--it would practice, and there would be no light to write. Yes, you but mot whem we awkwardly scribbled our names with our bare am the grass, beneath the inky sky, spied on by’ the ing it and the approving moom, but thank you for ma that first time, and all the rest. No, manhood cannot merel by the sweat of the brow. It's not a hardness, invulner T've never met a man made of metal--though some have come