These words are my own, from my heart flow [and often inspired by the Big Man upstairs]
Saturday, August 13, 2011
My love cup is a shallow one, I figure. It doesn't take much to fill it up; an invitation will do, a "hello Amber," a genuine "you're doing a good job," a pat on the back, some eye contact. Being easy to fill up is a good thing, but that also means it's easy to empty. I drain out with lightening speed. The contents of cup are sucked out into a black hole of bitterness and hurt with the avoidance of eye contact, the neglect of a hello, ignorant actions, attention given to someone else and not me - pretty much not being initiated to. If you don't reach out and touch my heart, it shrivels...
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