Hand me the shears of our loveand snip sorrows awayand with a glinting winkcut me with your adorable wit.

August 16, 1788  Mon Cher Donatien  Tethered to our bed, I looked up at the ceiling. Imaging the world above. The busy Parisian streets of Montmartre. Elegant women and men making their way. Doing their duty, playing their roles. While I...

tears flow from withinI have searched for reasoning like running in a maze the heartache always reminds me   these worries will come hurrying backlike a fire, the emotions ignite, singe, and burn I spin round and around on this...