But now in September the garden has cooled, and with it my possessiveness. The sun warms my back instead of beating on my head ... The harvest has dwindled, and I have grown apart from the intense midsummer relationship that brought it on
"She lives the poetry she cannot write" - Oscar Wilde
She is back... or she is trying to.. She stopped writing a long time ago. She was scared. Scared that people will read her thoughts. Scared she will admit what was in her mind. She is even scared now. But why? She used to be fearless you know. Nothing could take her down. Nothing could take her away from her romantic and wild thoughts. She used to write what was in her mind and her heart and wouldn't even think of what people say. She didn't care. She had everything and nothing, she was careless, free and young. She was a dreamer. And then she started trying to figure out what her dreams were. She left her comfort zone and went to a place where she really cared about what people say. So she stopped writing. Or she stopped when her heart was broken. Yes. Her heart was broken. She broke it herself, she didn't regret it, it is what she wants but she had to make peace with her broken heart and keep moving. She is 25 and she feels like time goes by without her doi
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