Are you afraid, of the touch which made you feel as if it
had rained inside your whole body? -Rain, which stifled the fire within and
made you reconsider the rules; rain, which slowed down time and made sublime
moments flourish.
Weren't you
catapulted back into your safe haven, away from a sepulchral picture of the
future, away from the infinite procession of life? Didn't you step out of the
quagmire that environed you?
She could never find a clear pure language, so she swayed,
in some black alley, nowhere. She zoned out with heavy metal music blasting in her
ears. She let her imagination forge profoundest of moments, which otherwise
would have never led them anywhere. Moments which hung still in nothingness,
and then were euphemistically called “something”. But beneath her beatific
smile, lay no conditions. Beneath the vagueness of her words lay a solid
foundation for a new beginning. Behind her stupidity, was a nervous confusion
of all that could be said, all that should not be said, and ultimately, all
that was actually said.
Did you think it was immoral when the feelings came gushing
up to the throat, fearing that you might initiate something? Are you a patron
of ignorance, rigid, and incapable of being drawn into an embrace?
You’re living in a split-level reality, you’re afraid to
struggle with a panorama of possibilities. Can you indemnify her, for all the
time she has lost thinking, maybe? Can you stand your ground in this boisterous
sea of doubt, and hold on to an unequivocal answer, an unequivocal judgment? Can
you curb your thoughts, only to traverse in a direction not cobbled by your
hurtful thoughts?
She’s part of the devil’s conspiracy, as she helped abet the
same.
Are you satisfied? That you’re not poles asunder after all?
How many short-term scenarios did you make in your mind? How many times did you
deceive her by sweetening her life? You took whatever you could get, to assuage
your need, so did she.
Obscure theories, imbroglio of 21st century.
Cinderella ran wearing
both of her shoes; and the prince came asking for one of them. It’s no
fairytale, the glitter and glue is a mess. And a hundred white horses have gone
berserk.
Image credits: Google.
