When one is at a loss, the urge to heal from the pain or succumb to vulnerability is at war.
I am the latter.
It is fitter to fall into a slumber where I am in a constant condition of forgetting, granted that I am to see you waiting there when my eyes flutter open again. Memory is too admired, oftentimes idolized, I would too if it were not abandonment I await receiving. Being what I am, I am content, having a clean slate where I am free to sunder the good from the bad of your quiddities; you should be pleased at the very least, knowing that one is incapable of escaping you.
Yet, I am no prisoner, I do not suffer when the sole object I am chasing with no end is relief in the form of your presence. Assurance I can give you is permanent, there will be no moment wherein you search for me, as every single sunrise my heart will pulsate toward yours. My soul is lost for an eternity, but I am labeled found with merely your gaze, a gaze that remembers everything, opposite of mine.
About the Creator
LV Dante
The very essence of my being poured out into thoughts in the form of literature.
Personal essays, prose, and short stories!
Getting out of the house can be hard
"Come on Jack, wake up. It's 7:30 already. You'll be late. Don't you wanna have breakfast?" "Mmmmm." "Yeah I know, you probably stayed up till 2 again, playing that stupid game. Whatever, you're not 12 anymore. You do you. But don't say I didn't try when they kick you out of school for too many missed classes."
By Paul Fingl2 days ago in Fiction
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