I feel that I like little, not much what I ask for or look to find, it’s more often about what I wanted to not have, to be free from. More silence, love and fewer opportunities for me to see that I am also able to feel some odium if so I want; I am, somehow unusually harsher than you deem fair, and I feel am not that either. That’s why I’ve always liked telling you all of who I am or feel like being, extravagant calculations of mine, plans, to move away and closer to that which might be the furthest we both know.
Nothing else, I guess that’s what my dreams look like, anything around this perfect pairing and an empty world would make it for me. My kind of limbo, eternal and ours, but no, it’s just another musing you will take in, you listen; you know it all and do not tremble much from them. But how could you, from out there so lost in the distance? What binding is there for us when even the tensest rare lightning may be more certain to hit any of us than we are of someday coming to touch each other?
You nurture my standbyed potential to feel deeply, whereas I may present you some fresher reasons to give another chance to this mortal drive for taking something meaningful from life. I guess that’s it, simple as if the atlas lacks the weight of love to fall back into place. For the absence of feeling seems void, at least for the majority of you out there, it’s just unnatural. She’s odd but I’m coming to feel her better.
And following the paragraph before the last, maybe all that’s not so factual still regards you as the right one, from all you know now and what we do not yet but surely will. We’re still and for fat times ahead lost in miles and moods, first yours then mine. We do not say all we could but there’s no sense in sowing ampler hunger for something to sprout, not while we aren’t able to come to reason on when or where to forge a path through this overgrown woodland made of reasons for the uninstantaneous progress of us. We speak enough, to you, I sense I convey everything a man’s supposed to say, perhaps more and perhaps that makes me less of a man hahaha… you tell.
It’s just that through your strong clinical words I can read that nothing can ever be lost, even if it never comes to embodied form; how much it made you feel and grow, that’s what counts, and it should be good enough. But we know that while I might find valid that you say I’ll anyways not smile to that. In the end, I’ve just touched less and loved also not as greatly as you say you did, I’m also bound to fall for the unlovable. However, you seem to not fit into this category cause, against traditional belief, you look like you need be loved yet.
Your heart kind of overheated, collapsed from a fault that wasn’t wholly yours yet you digested it, poorly, cause we know how your stomach is the tiniest (unlike mine). But well, time cooled you down didn’t it? And the remaining warmth is that which you are. Yes. You’re ready(er)! Let’s just not overclock it this time. That’d be against love’s constitution, and regarding law… oh law is something I know you know of.
(Happy Birthday to you, love!)