why is a word i have not paid heed to for a very very long time. the anti of why is such an integral part of my life that questioning it has been nothing, but a boring mellowed groan on a broken record. i've come dangerously close to the ingenuities of this inequity; in fact, so close that the lines are no longer a blur : i sway in and out in beautiful rhythm. i know the fate of things. i know them so well that it almost seems like a plan and soon everything starts falling into place.
i've been told that getting close to me is like playing with fire - an attraction that is strongly needed almost like a sin, but not wanted. i've been told that being doused in it is a need, even if for a while, to feel liberated from what's holding them and yet they wouldn't. and i've told them, ' pay no mind to the distant thunder, beauty will fill your head with wonder..'
if it were left to my devices, i'd have liberated everyone i've known, but how could i when i couldn't myself? i just slip in and out. every time i glid, i' was jolted back to the ground. how could i keep them, if i couldn't keep myself? so, i let them be..
because you can't put your arms around a memory, because it isn't the same when you try picking up from where you left, because they only start missing you when they fail to replace you...because we need to let go to feel the wonder, boy :)
'There is an awful warmth about my heart like a load of immortality..'