The first touch is usually a cold shower, mainly because I’m off guard. You have so many faces and reactions that I can’t always tell it’s you. And yes, you’ve got this gift of showing up when I least expect it, although there must be a pattern somewhere. I almost saw it twice, will it be clear the third?
But the moment I realize it, I’m back on my feet, ready to dance and play and twist by your rules, which I can acknowledge as mine, too, for the time being. It feels wrong – but, damn, so good! –to keep these shallow rules as temporary guidelines. To care for nothing, to answer to no one, to leave and return as I please, no strings attached. Lovely anesthesia, sweet nepenthe.
So, once again in a blue moon, I thank you for bringing back my recollection. I have no place in the world I try to reach, another is my path. I can look, but I can’t touch, and I’d rather be pulled over by your firm grip than be run over by a train. You’re better than me at spotting a dead end when you see it, you’re definitely more effective: no lost time, and I praise you for that.
It might not have been your intention, but you saved me once more. What you decided was good for you, was good for me, too. Although not on my chemical prescription, you’re just what the doctor ordered – even better, no side effects. Somehow, you embraced me with the same peace and tranquility you had found for yourself the hard way, although sharing was not your concern. Yet, you did share. It was not yours to take care of me, but you protected me more than the ones I trusted. You call it indifference, I call it cure. You call it seclusion, I call it sanitarium.
We merged and we parted, but this one thing stuck. It’s infectious and I welcome it. So thank you, whoever you are and however you lips lay upon me.
Just let me know when I’m supposed to leave it behind.
(26 feb 2018)
Însemnări 