One can be inspirational because of many things. But for awkward reasons which I could name none, this person is inspirational, yet I can't tell because of what.
Foolishness, you may think? Not surprising, for I think so too.
Mayhap distance does more good than harm. At least distance - in the form of emptiness between you and me, as well as time - dissolves and eradicates what ought not to stem and flourish, in silence, of course.
In silence, so as to not affect this equilibrium - already shaky, frail, as interactions between the opposite ends increases with increasing intensity. The broth, the reaction mixture, in this very cauldron is churning, frothing, foaming. Was that light that I saw, shining from the base? Was that yet another dawn, uncertain and indistinguishable from the dusk?
I know not of it. But one thing I'm sure.
As quickly as it churned, it came, suddenly, to an abrupt stop. Everything came to a standstill. The light was extinguished, just like that, leaving in the cauldron nothing else but clearwater.
So where have all the spices that triggered the series of violent reactions gone?
Curious I was, but no effort was made to find out. All was too familiar.
Since the (second) beginning I've made every precaution possible, to keep myself at bay. The waters that stir is just too dangerous, for me to venture alone. Yet this time, it swept me as swift as it swept me previously.
Lucky for me, now that I know it wouldn't come true, that I seize the moment to shatter every single hope because I know they are false.
But unlucky for me, I DID got carried away a little, and every attempt made to bring myself back to the banks was like a dagger, jabbed with utmost precision, directly into the heart where it feels.
Every glimpse of the picture(s) brings warmth, of which kind I'm not able to tell. But following shortly is a short-lived, momentary suffocation, when I know the fantasy is best remained as fantasy.
"...I also wished it was a girl lo..." nonchalantly that person said.
"Ah, so THAT'S the main point." I teased.
As I turned away, I forced down a mouthful of drink, to stop it from bleeding.
The dagger had just driven itself, right into where it feels.
