Bel esprit

i was told not to move so i stayed quiet for months, i was told not to run so i stayed hushed for years. i’ve held the palm of my mother and father with my baby fingers but no one else’s. i let a mindset hold me back from compromising pride and a few gentlemen who held strong potential to hinder everything i felt about love and excitement and passion. i used to daydream about the staggering thought of stringing all my previous lives together into one timeless life, a life in which throws away all the miserable nights into a separate life and to selfishly bestow it for someone else to handle. i realized what a ridiculous idea that was, but still i dreamt; and that dream faded into a vestige of hope in which i still believe in. i still believe it is possible to live a decades worth of entire days, wasting invaluable minutes, with companions who deserve nothing less than happiness. but i have been prevailing too much time and i have not been handed a significant amount of love for weeks. and being deprived of affection makes me notice things i never wished to notice.

i can for talk hours and hours about the smallest part of my life, a boy, and i’d still come home with not even half a heavier heart than i did in the morning.

god, you are so secretive and closed and it makes me wonder what kind of mysteries you bleed dry into the depths of your own shadows. it makes me wonder what you think of the moons and the constellations that dangle above your nose during the special storms, it makes me wonder what you think of your potential future and definite past. i wonder if we have similar thoughts regarding the concept of acquaintances and soulmates. i wonder if you often sit down and watch the activity of a small town from an eagle eye’s view and i wonder if you contemplate the origin — poor dirt or pure imagination. i wonder if you wake up just before the sun rises, with the longing of sharing your thoughts to someone else, anyone else — just like me. wallflowers like you.