what you drew on it? like your heart does remember, what you have done to it.
I woke up, disoriented this morning, but not about where i am, but more like in time. My heart choked from the dust of the past memories, i was awaken by the eruptions of emotions coming from random events in the past, people that i met, places that i was in. So yeah, i woke up lost, so to speak.
I texted a friend and asked him, when we met. i thought if i know the number of the time i can start tracing whatever there needed to be traced and re-memorize and re-known then i will find my self again. i can re-direct my self. Drop the pin at certain place in past lane to start.
This feeling of content at times comes as a complete emptiness, a void at the very back of my head demanding fulfillment. Life is a bore at this stage, thinking everything is temporary, then whats there left to do. Thoughts; feelings, evolving, shifting, wildly and fast, like they can’t never decide a definition. And I am the one who is standing here, waiting for a conclusion.
Empty hands struggling to grasp the air, as if I could do it and shape it I would understand the whole idea of what Life is.
But this is also one of those time, so personal, something delicate is taking shape inside, the strongest voice I hear is “patient!”, ego would judge me as coward for not making any moves.
“You have become the person you wanted to be, tho you could never see it. And you know the Universe is vast. Every conclusion is another beginning of a new quest” says the voice at the back of my head.
his shadow bores me, his wordplay bores me, no mystery anymore in the beauty he paints, too fragile, too vulnerable, too graceful, his kisses are probably getting boring, no more after flavor, nothing linger. i cant feel the sharpness of his words that still dripping in my head, they dont tickle me down there anymore, they dont make me come anymore.
I dont see kids running around in the park. I dont see their bright smile and stare from under my breasts. I dont see anything but that female figure standing at the tip of a cliff far above the clouds as if listening to the stories told by the moon. And the urge, is to be with her.