These are but vain attempts to express, by one who wears her heart on her sleeve. Words, much like love, can be ever elusive... ever frustrating... like trying to paint a million stories on a single canvass. If you will read, please do not ask. Just feel. Or at least try to. The meaning is, whatever you have felt to be there, or the lack thereof :)


I left a package for you
At the counter of life’s store
Nothing fancy -
A plain parcel wrapped in brown paper

I wonder if that is the reason why
It has been there for some time
And it seems to me that you have no intention
Of ever laying claim

How would you know what’s inside?
Just how could you appreciate?
Unless you open it
And see my priceless gift
Of self

2002 July 08
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Dear dearest, these are your love songs: