it always seems to me as if an access of life came with the melting of the heart. i love the gentle thaws i can trace. between tears and smiles, the year, like the child, struggles into the warmth of life. blue-birds have chanted his requiem. leaking into my life amid all of this. while falling in love with somebody else. reconciling my last to begin a new. shadows of my very distant past. with now a glimpse of sun. or rather a resemblance of my past. what my first looked like and what love to hatred can now look like. many faint-hearts imagine, but one phase of earnestness in our life of feeling. i spend reflecting on something that is over. and fear what can become. facts of the poorest and most slumberous evidence of passion, of affection. what is love. true feeling is ranging everywhere; whereas your actual attachments are too apt to be tied to sense.
so for her what what we use to be and now are below this. and for the one i cant stop thinking about. i havent reached my fullness yet. i want to write a positive history. please.