Wr1tt3n0ne

Bunches and bunches
2022-07-25 18:14:00 (UTC)

Retrospective Repose

It has been over two years since Mr. Curved Line meandered into my life and heart. Not a smooth transition to be sure, I am far too emotionally wrought to slip easily into love. However, the difficulty with my falling and letting go into love hides the depth of my tempered commitment. So much prudent forethought and cautions maneuvering in order to be so crystal clear that I am precisely where I ought to be. Where is my home, my sanctuary? Free choice, free expression and full devotion. Terribly high standards and and an even higher price. Love of the ages is nary a cheap and easy acquisition. All of my sentimentality is a heavy load to bear as well as rejoice in. And yet I find it's passion hungered for, but mere wanting even from a dependable sort, it is wholly insufficient. My heart's dowry is a nearly priceless for it has all of my vast, pure feelings. I can bee the breath of the wind on your skin, the kiss of the early morning's sun's rays, the gentle lapping of the almost still lakeshore.

All my beauteous vocabulary belies the simplicity of emotion, I have never forgot. The wonder of a new day, the tactile joys of being, and the tenderest of emotions flitting lightly along your mind like butterflies. Truths lost and dusted off again, nearly new but all the sweeter from nostalgia. Now being guarded, hardened on the outmost layers seems like the only prudent course. The musings of being, the wonderment and the elation of being cannot be painted in harsh discordant shades contrasted with the depravity of humanity. Every protector knows this to be true and values the pristine over the world weary. And so it is that I have this this yet within me, I have protected myself as completely as possible. However I am no plastic coated, unused sofa in your grandmother's living room, so staying safe has exacted a decidedly high toll. Freedom that one has in safety, I have scarcely ever rested easily, securely. My heart bleeds at even the possibility of misfortune's ache.

When I sleep, closer than any sane organism, in what can only be approximated as two trying to tie themselves into one, might find remotely comfortable, my rest is deep and wide, devoid of anything other than tranquil repose.




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