And I sit here without identity: faceless. My head aches.
Let me sit in a flowerpot, The spiders won't notice. My heart is a stopped geranium.
If only I can find him... the man who will be intelligent, yet physically magnetic and personable. If I can offer that combination, why shouldn't I expect it in a man?
As a poet, one lives a bit on air. I always like someone who can teach me something practical.
Let me live, love and say it well in good sentences.
I want to force myself again and again to leave the warmth and security of static situations and move into the world of growth and suffering where the real books are people's minds and souls.