micci@nvuxg.UUCP (D M Dennee) (12/30/85)
To longer can I look up with big, blue trusting eyes to the princes that come my way. The blue has turned to grey... The trust has turned to wariness. Too many little hurts have built themselves upon the big hurt you left me with so long ago. If this is what growing is I don't want to grow any more. I want to be fresh and innocent again; like I was when I first met you.