Armpit of my Soul

It took awhile, but I finally found some one to finally call things like "lady bug", "chrysanthemum", and "Diana". Some one special... I mean cursingly special... so special that every time I see her I get slapped in the face...

...with love and life. It sort of hurts, but in a way that tickling sort of hurts. I laugh until I cry, smile until my face goes limp, and squirm and wiggle because her presence touches a part of my soul that had rarely been touched by carressing fingers before. It is the part of the soul that is easily forgotten or ignored until some one else finds it and starts poking around... and now she has built a summer-home in the armpit of my soul.