Call it a revisit

Call it a revisit if you must but someone reminded me of my love of months passed so in the wee hours of Sunday morning I wrote... stream of consciousness, rawness blogged and it felt good.  It's that crazy, young, silly feeling.  The wanting, the wooing.  It is a wordless feeling. The hoping, the pleading... The push and pull. The high, the crashing low. It is intimacy intoxicated by the unknowing. It is paradoxical yet safe. Shameless, without pretense, writing... Finally.