I'd like to cry now. Don't know how.

Can’t promise I’ll stay. That would be lying. And I’m so, so tired of lies.

I want to open myself, let him inside. But how do I give what has already been taken?

Light That's how I feel- like the winter-fringed breeze might scoop me up into its wings, fly away with me trapped in its feathered embrace. I am a snowflake. A wisp of eiderdown, liberated from gravity. My body is light. Ephemeral. My head is light. I want to sway beneath the weight of air, dizzy with thought. Light filters through my closed eyelids. The sun, chasing shadows, tells me I'm not afloat in dreams.

We kissed for about the thousandth time, No promises, no demands, Just solid rebuilding of shattered trust.

My happiest memories have no place in the past; they are those I have yet to create.

The problem with being grounded is it gives you a whole lot of unavoidable time to think. NOt even pulling weeds can take away your ability to plot all the varied and wonderful things you might do to get even, or at least to make up, just get a smidgen for time lost to TV and yard work and house cleaning.