Ohhhh...

i saw a stanza of this poem riding the subway to Harlem, it made me smile!

O Tell Me The Truth About Love

Some say love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go around,
Some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next-door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.

Does it look like a pair of pyjamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does its odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.

Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The Transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of railway guides.

Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first-rate imitation
On a saw or a Steinway Grand?
Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like Classical stuff?
Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?
O tell me the truth about love.

I looked inside the summer-house;
It wasn't over there;
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn't in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.

Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all its time at the races,
or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of its own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories vulgar but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.

When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.

WH Auden

I knew when

i first saw him, and his smile, weeks before we ever met.
the first time he reached out to hold my hand.
our very first kiss.
when i met his dog.
after every fight.
at four in the morning.
i told him, he wouldn't stay.
he let me go.
i looked out of the window.
i called him.
he didn't come.
he never came.
i met him........my heart would break.

What's it all Worth

"great love stories are supposed to end with tragedy and tears, not with papers from the law offices of Gold & Vogel"

on love and heartache

to live by:

"how you feel only matters to you. its what you do to the people you say you love, that matters".


It is a truth, that should be held to heart when falling in love. To be of kind heart to the person who is falling in love with you is of the utmost importance. The heart my friends is a very fragile thing, and it take years upon years to heal, though never fully and with constant memory of its previous break. Love is easily proclaimed, and easily denounced, but that kind of love is not truly love. True love does not end. It endures for a lifetime. At times, one may wish it disappear, but it is and will always be a constant companion. True love will love through heartache, separation, sickness, marriage and yes even death. It like the sun is eternal.

"falling in love is a foolish game, and I am no longer a fool".

true heartache, is much like death. It is as if someone or something has ripped your soul from its rightful home. Heartache like love, is also eternal. it has been imprinted on your being. Heartache forever changes who a person is and ever so slightly alters who that person may become.

The Thin Line:

love and heartache are like the zodiac Gemini, they are twins, where one goes the other will follow. They will arrive in varying degrees but they come hand in hand. On any given day we can choose to live with one or the other, but they are both with us. Often in recalling your greatest love, you may find cause of your greatest heartache. Often when recalling your greatest heartache, you may find cause of your true love.

Sometimes Im just sad...

I'm sad for all the things that could have been and aren't. I'm sad for the things that are, but could have been different. I'm sad because I can be and I have the right to be. I sad because happy isn't working for me right now. I'm sad because there is so much more and I'm afraid I wont achieve it. I'm sad because sometimes I'm just sad.

The Hardest Thing...

The hardest to me is to be again
re-learning who I was alone
not questioning other feelings
suggesting other plans
the freedom I've regained unexpectedly
abruptly
how to handle it?
Answering the questions
to those that don't know
seeming like a fool to my friends
seeming like a fool.
The hardest thing is letting my love go
letting it be
letting him be
I can be myself
as I was before.
Before I ever knew of love
regrouping
not relying.
The hardest is facing those together,
the hardest is forgetting,
the hardest is remembering.
Believing in love again,
thats the hardest thing.

I’m erasing you and I’m happy

So I'm not alone….a lot of us seem to be suffering the same emotional icky-ness this month….I'm stuck in the past. Not so much the past but an idealized version of what could have been. Stuck there longing for this place that isn't real and for what? Eternal Sunshine…has been on a lot recently (me thinks to teach me something) and I've never wanted so much than just to erase….but here is the thing I'm slowly starting to figure out….he for better or worse made me who I am today, (and besides the emotional icky-ness I'm suffering right now) I'm pretty happy with who I am today. In all my random readings I came across a quote that hit me like a ton of bricks…"he has been present in my everyday life whether I wanted him there or not". The truth is he has.

Anais Nin wrote:
"Each friend represents a world in us, a world possibly not born until they arrive". The me I am today would not exists if not for him, and others being part of my life. So the question really is…if I know I needed him to be me, why then the emotional ick? That I have no answer for.

How happy is the blameless vestal's lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each prayer accepted, and each wish resigned;
Labour and rest, that equal periods keep;
"Obedient slumbers that can wake and weep;"
Desires composed, affections ever even,
Tears that delight, and sighs that waft to Heaven.
(Alexander pope)

The past is a funny thing, it can't be changed nor forgotten. It is what it is for a reason. We all have mistakes, wrongs, mis-steps that we want to undo, but its what we learn from them that makes them so important. We are our past because they made us. (sankofa..duh?) Not the idealized version (that I long for) but the actual past. Its me. The sooner I accept that…