Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Verily Verisimilar

I noticed maturity, in the way I'm not as overwhelmed by emotions as I would back then.

Swayed maybe, but not drowned.

It used to sting when you snap at me, now there's like a shaggy cushion softening the blows. I don't know if I'm taking it less personal or my heart's already a little dead.

Jealousy doesn't drive me to do stupid things anymore. Even if it nagges me to the point I wish that device is lay crushed from the fall.

Fighting temptation's not that conflicting anymore, even if it leaves me in a few seconds of daze.

In fact, I do admire my catatonic self for being able to put on a stoic mask and fight every single instinct of pulling you into a long, embarassing, substance-driven kiss and saying all the feelings that can't make up words that would lead anywhere.

Even harder so when you throw signs of menial efforts in the form of face-brushing, back-massage, strand-tugs, light kiss on the cheek and slipping in words of concern as you take your space back.

But it's hardest to look away from your eyes, crossing all thoughts of leaving behind a goodnight kiss, and not turn around to see if you're still by the door, AFTER you say the almost meaningless yet courteous "Drive carefully".

Cos with me, you were not always courteous with words.

photo ©2009 pamela h. viola

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Vermouth & Viola

The bitter lining the strings.

Yesterday and tomorrow are nothing but what makes today matters.

Don't justify. I'm way past that.

Twitterific of Me

Too late to die young

Too late to die young
you throw a coin, into the sea, and shout out “please come back to me”

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