Sunday, April 10, 2011

girl, Friday

I’m constantly reminded by them throughout these pockets in my life that I should write a book. My usual response, if one were to stand witness, is a disgruntle, facial splinter of immediate rejection shortly followed by an uncontrollable urge to giggle at the entirety of such an undertaking.

But I digress.

You know that feeling. That crushing feeling where your stomach knots up wrenching your vital organs upward making you short of breath. The initial vibe of adornment and excitement that comes with the involvement of her spirit. Her presence. Her very existence.

But I now digress.

You walk around repeating your daily routines with perfection and in the mist of the somniferous haze, you smile, and think of no one else.

I have built a wall.

How do you make that feeling last forever? You want to steal the formula. You want it to last forever.

I never want it again.

She always smells perfect, even when she smells bad, she stills smells like her. I smell her clothes when she’s not around. There is never enough.

Can an artless thieve steal that wisdom from me…..please do.

I like the part where you feel completely absorbed and your simple life becomes a progression until your next encounter with her. Life seems to stop right there and then.

Sometimes I wish it never happened.

You came over to hold me because you’re falling in love with me. I can hold you forever.

I am the Tin Man that wants to trade reason for his ticking time bomb.

When I tell her that I miss her, I mean it. Every time. She repeats it in an even sweeter vernacular that is radiant.

I want to wear her jewellery and dissolve in the sun.

I’m such an idiot to think that she wrote that for me. I’ll be honest, it did give me a rush and spine evaporating vibe and for a sonar of those passing hours, I felt alive again. But I guess that’s the relentless attraction. The release. The glory of those passing hours.

Time is the panic of resolution.

Our encounters become gradually cheesy and blatantly unbearable in a infantile play-ground lovers series. But we do it anyway.

I’ll never hold another human being with enough devotion… they deserve.

Those adorable songs sound so much cooler.

I still listen to them. I still weep.

She just wants to be with you all the time. You hold her close. You close your eyes.

I remain sleepless for the next three hundred years.

Your conversations flow and become a single stream that transcends into infinity and after a while, it just seems as if they had been sewn together from the beginning. The intimate silence becomes an addiction. An obsession. A craving.

I crave apathy.

You’re not just kissing her anymore. You’re just closing the distance between you using your lips with the gentleness of only emotion to guide. Every touch is cherished and forever.

Another of the senses…..lost.

1 comment:

veraicon reality said...

maybe she did write that for should never assume.