Every blank sheet deserves two possibilities at best- to remain blank or be deflowered by wise scribbling. I hope this sheet gets the later as I compassionately reap off its blankness.
This weekend has had my young heart panting in wishes and worries. I have felt anemic, deserving of an emergency transfusion of at least ten pints of 20/20 vision.
What can trouble me so? The fear looms larger than a soldier’s on a field heavily infested with landmines. I have had to walk with that much caution lately.
Spoken words-regardless of subtlety- are misconstrued. Imagine then what has become the fate of my actions! If I say I’m certain of where and what next, hmmm! I twist truth. Badly! Even my silence has been violated; it’s intentions replaced by distant and unrelated meanings. But for grace I would be as fatigued as a decade old memory.
Well, enough of the suspense! It’s about my love life or maybe I meant the life of my love. I fantasized of one that would outlive Methuselah, out-dance David, outweigh the Titanic, outclass all of Shakespeare’s love tales and outgrow our boundless hearts. I think the only thing it seeks now is outsourcing!
As is obvious, this mind is unsure about so much. Lest I infect you with unsettled thoughts, I would stop here. I only wonder if my heart still feels young.
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