A BROKEN WOMAN IS DIFFICULT TO LOVE
from: http://adoripoetry.wordpress.com/ Writing, to me, is like stripping naked on the highway and hoping someone will whistle at your round thighs (well dimply brown ones in my case) and youthful body. You bare your soul on a piece of paper that really didn’t know what you had coming until ink filled with emotions came dripping onto it. . .Just like the tears shed in truth and lies. Truth is a funny thing you know. Often we think we want everyone to be honest with us, tell us the truth ALL THE TIME, bare their souls every waking moment of their lives. And God forbid they leave out a detail or two, ALL HELL shall break lose and the warm feeling love gives you will turn into a burning feeling of bubbling magma rising from your toes up straight to your heart. Lies. . . oh, the beginning of the end. Ever felt so angry you could feel your own heart pumping within its nest? You know. . like you could hear it beat; angrily pumping pure vile into your veins, your voice even trembled as ...