She Surrenders.
She stands tall. Naked and vulnerable. Open to the elements and unforgivably strong to the wind. She bares her imperfections. She realizes now they make up her soul. It wasn't always this way. This knowledge. This trust and faith she has year after year. She remembers the first time she was stripped down. To the bare branches. It was cold and she felt vulnerable and open. Open to criticism of
Send her love.
She has been with me for as long as I can remember. She doesn't have a name, but she has this immense, powerful presence. She lingers too long in some moments, and too short in others. I've never imagined her to look a certain way. In fact I've never seen her face. But this voice of hers. Its so loud sometimes. Mean, in fact. She criticizes me in