I must have been about 12 maybe 13 years old when I fell in love for the first time. He was from Brooklyn. I was from Queens. I used to visit my cousins on the weekends and he lived around the corner. He was somewhat quiet, but always had a joke on the low. There was a calm about him that I was drawn to. He was a year or two older than me. And I loved his maturity. I’m not saying he was mature because he was older than me; he was mature...
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Just Me
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This blog is a home for my thoughts and my heart. It's a sounding board for the daily conversations I have with myself.
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