If You Hold A Bird Too Tightly,

Unless I'm Reading An Assignment Or Doing A Paper Or Taking A Test, I'm Thinking About You.

There Was A War Going On In Our House. A Silent War That Sounded No Guns, And The Bodies That Fell Were Only Wishes That Died And The Bullets Were Only Words And The Blood That Spilled Was Always Called Pride.

Mine Are The Deep-seated Fears Established When We Are Children, And They Never Quite Go Away: The Fear Of Being Helpless, The Fear Of Being Trapped, The Fear Of Being Out Of Control.

Promises Are Lies Wrapped In Pretty Ribbons -cinnamon

And Somewhere In That Crimson-colored Never-never Land Where I Pirouetted Madly, In A Wild And Crazy Effort To Exhaust Myself Into Insensibility, I Saw That Man, Shadowy And Distant, Half-hidden Behind Towering White Columns That Rose Clear Up To A Purple Sky. In A Passionate Pas De Deux He Danced With Me, Forever Apart, No Matter How Hard I Sought To Draw Nearer And Leap Into His Arms, Where I Could Feel Them Protective About Me, Supporting Me ... And With Him I'd Find, At Last, A Safe Place To Live And Love.