The week

This was a long week. Long hours, long times of too much thinking about things that ought be put away. 

When tired, those thoughts pervade - barriers built by strength gone. In many ways they don't bother me - they linger for too long, perhaps, but they tell me that what was there, what is still there, was real. The intellectual part of my mind understands the reasons for the break - but my emotional side has not accepted them. And it doesn't matter that there's nothing reciprocal. 

You see, it started as a wonderful friendship. Wonderful as it allowed me to love fully without expectations. There was full acceptance with no reservations. The knowledge of her came slowly and a foundation of trust was built around that knowledge. 

Perhaps, this is what there will always be:  That I'll always adore her because of all of who she is, and was, and will be... Ill always cherish her because of what makes her, her. 

And I'm happy with that. :-)

My?

My love
My one
My heart
My soul
My only
Your eyes
Your touch
Your laugh
Your smile
Your "good morning"
Your slurp scolding
Your one
My hope
My life
My future
My present
My past
My love

My love.

Casa Mañana

Enjoying the day last weekend with the talented and hard working Juli Mohan of Mustang Productions. Fun hanging-out as she shot a story for her show, Horse Country USA. She did let me scout a couple of B-Roll shots :-)

Turn away...

Now and again, looking for anything but,
the past is found,
in photos bright and happy, vibrant, telling.
And though quickly turning from them
lest, caught in a whirlpool,
I am soon swept deep within
and in those memories drown.

Real, nothing else

Like saccharine to sugar, there is no substitute that takes your place.

For months I've tried... each time coming away empty, cold. In my mind, plastic centerpieces, where, from across the room all is tantalizing, but nearer, finding no fragrance, no bitterness, no sweetness inside, I'm again disappointed and again withdrawal wanting nothing at all.

Always, compared to the real, artificial never measures-up. It lacks everything the heart desires. Why settle for less than genuine, less than real, less than you? At least a scent, a sliver, a glance, a wisp and even a void is real. And isn't that better than fake?