“Where do I begin,” (that famous line from a familiar song) to tell a story where I’ve been. Been somewhere, anywhere, nope, truthfully nowhere.
Now I don’t know how to start. They say time heals all wounds, and if missing something is a wound, and starting all over again is a form of healing then let me have a thousand scars for although I’m not a masochist, I welcome the pain of waiting. And if somehow one can’t understand what I’m conveying, it’s okay not to be understood once in a while. Why would I expect others to understand if I, myself don’t understand where I’ve been, eventhough I always claimed I know where I’m heading.
Subject verb agreement, punctuation errors and a lot of grammatical lapses. I am not an English writer and it does not pain me when I tender my resignation letter and realized that he’s not reading my letter. Yes, he is not hearing me, he is looking at my letter telling me how in the world can I write a resignation letter with misspelled words and grammatical lapses. That deceitful feeling of finally getting even by giving him a hard time deciphering what I meant when I said I’m leaving. Or is it just the real me when I blabber with incongruent statements because truthfully I am a weird eccentric person who is not good in saying goodbye.
So I closed the door and walked away…. But in no time I’m back in his arms, restartng what could have been, what might have been, what should have been and all those in betweens.
Been There. Done That. How I wish I could truthfully say that. 🙂
Abstract people. Have you met them? Do you recognize them? Do they ever bother you? Do you understand them?
Understanding them is like viewing a painting. Your interpretation is limited to your understanding. Your understanding is limited to your truth.
Looking at the painting, how could you refute the visible signs of the brush if you’re only seeing the canvas? And how can you accept the beauty of its diverse colors if you hate to walk in shades of gray and live your life only in black and white?
And what is your truth? Is the sun your truth or the moon on a dark night? Is it the rainbow after the storm or the pot of gold after the rainbow? Is your truth your refuge when life is a curse or it becomes your oath when life is a gift?
Abstract people. Most of the time, you don’t understand them. Sometimes, you are one of them.
Why is February a Love Month? I don’t know the answer. One thing i know is I love to share something about love through poetry……..Since February is make love, oops, i mean made up of 8 letters, let me share you 8 Love Poems/Musing.
Kindly Click / Tap Photos To Read the Poems. Hope you’ll LOVE them. Thanks.