Delicate

There are some things in this life that make you suck in what breath you have left, they're so beautiful.

'S different for everyone.

(The eye of the beholder, you know?)

And those little things (the catch of the singer's voice in his song, the subtle shading of a sad old snapshot), they break my heart.

And 's almost funny, how much I like my heart broken that way.

I am undecided. Does an artist call himself an artist, or do others decide for him?

Me--I think I'm just in love with the beautiful.

That might've been the most I've soul-bared on here.

But I am. And maybe that's what artistry's about--the love of the beautiful.

Again. 'S different for everyone.

But for me, I know this: that my heart cracks when I look into an icon's eyes and see the breaking point. Those dots of 'chutes across the French sky soar my soul. Words that flow from a speaker (butter on a bald monkey) sear my spirit.

In every heart there is a room
A sanctuary safe and strong
To heal the wounds from lovers past
Until a new one comes along

And every time I've held a rose
It seems I only felt the thorns
And so it goes, and so it goes,
And so will you soon, I suppose..

And this is why my eyes are closed
It's just as well for all I've seen
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows.

--Billy Joel