I had to cross the street and I saw him on the other side of the road. And I felt a curious emotion. It was not the rumball rebelling in my tummy. It was something far more profound. Huh! you say...'tis love! But huh, I say. It was not just love/indigestion/heat. It was a bit like a poem. Especially when he smiled. The smile was a bit like a grimace. But that's him, and I have nothing to complain about-not even when he punches/pinches the copious stitches that I have on my body(sadly shredded-alas these ravages of time)...
This tendency to digress he never encourages, and always makes me read Aristotle. This is because he thinks I have much brain which is, of course, a plain and blatant untruth. The truth is that I have interesting hair which manipulates my scalp in such a way as to produce many an illusion. (Then again; love is blind.) I used to think that he was very very brainy until he didn't cut his hair for a while and I realized that he too has interesting hair. Think, dear reader, even Einstein had interesting hair as did The Beatles.
And now, because I cannot find what I was looking for and wanted to share here, I shall quote myself i.e., it is a thing I once wrote when I was 16. I am 21 in four months' time. So you will please pardon immaturity of expression and appreciate the...the...curious emotion... as it were.
Now; The Dance of the Ravaged Souls.
Clad in transluscent temperaments and opaque longing
Pastel shades of pink and blue and tangerine
It was a dance; a greater dream
The sky was an indeterminate shade of grey
Or was it blue? And is it true?
That those creatures wore pixie hats?
They did! And twirled on their toes
Their heaving hearts unburdened by clothes
And the ravaged souls somersaulted off the cliffs.
Ah, there it did not end. But since my romantic mood is never quite that and often becomes a Romantic Mood, I shall keep it a fragment and declare it whole.
Thank you for reading this.