Each night she comes to my side unconditionally.
Chasing dreams of sleep longer than a moment or two.
Each night i re-read the chapters of my life looking for clues of what went wrong, how,when,why. ….
Then as always i realize its to late. It doesnt really matter,not in the way that would change or fix anything.
The smell campfire and old books, Turpentine and linseed oil stain my heart and hands as if time has stood still waiting for me to return.
Sadly now this body much older, wiser some might say. More fool hearty and careless others.Meanwhile.
Tantric lovers painted in textural emotions by a color blind madman. If only they all spoke in tongues this love affair with life wouldn’t leave such scars.
But then these scars tell of adventures in foreign lands, saving princess from demons and watching little ones grow I to teachers of their…
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