Piping hot horlicks spilled on my thigh soaking through my
black jeans and over my bag as well, had to get the battery
out of the notebook. I knocked his hand whilst passing it
over yet I fumed over it, shoving the blame right at the
entity. I'm lost-lost in a quagmire of various colors of
emotions that drowns my sense of reasoning. The illusion of
being cherished demeans my mental capabilities that I once
prided myself as being practical-a delusion as well.
Where do I place these pieces, the puzzle is still in a
state of utter disorder, one does not need this much chaos in
the system. Is it the impulsiveness or the atmosphere that
wrought such disorderliness in state of the Servant of her lord?
Those brown eyes wrought with playfulness and mischief
dominates my mental processes. I dread the pain that is
surely forthcoming like all the others -- experience should
have taught me well to avoid such situations -- yet I'm
helpless against an overwhelming need to be cherished by
those I cherish. I envision a time where I could look into
those eyes and see a reflection of the message from that
flesh residing at the center. Give me a bear hug, hold my
hands, let the world know that there is an 'us' and let not it
not just be a clash of flesh.
I love you?