Imagined exchanges of spontaneity in a boring, dull place
where the plan is unscheduled in a moderately slow pace.
Chance encounters, greetings and hellos,
make up for the awkwardness among the people you now know.
It’s quite peculiar, the uncanny allure
of a stranger with motives of which you’re never so sure.
The fear can only come when the riddle gets solved,
and you’re pushed into a state of emergency, forcing you to put everything on hold.
It’s a foul aftertaste you have in your mouth,
of something once so sweet, you find yourself nostalgic for that which came before the bitter amount
of vile liquid, before the promises, revelations, expectations and the familiar awkwardness
of getting too close–which brings about an inevitable lukewarmness.
And when the excitement becomes a regularity, the shroud lifted,
you’ll find yourself seeking intensity in vain, when the bond has drifted.
*Thank you to Celine Miranda who, without knowing it, made me less scared of posting this here. It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything worth posting. This may not even be something worthwhile, but whatever. I don’t really care anymore. Either you get it or you don’t. If you do, good for you; if you don’t, forget it. All is well. Just tired of anticipating all the possible criticisms. I will go back to the old ways.