Words are like beads of different colors, shapes and sizes. Their beauty lies in the way they are strung together to make rows and rows of art. For just like beads, a dozen scrupulously stitched may spark elegance while a handful lacking order, disaster.
There is nothing I need more
Than you, Milady
For with you--
I am
There is something in what we have right now which frightens you. Denial is pointless for it escapes through the certain gaps between your eyelids each time I peer through them.
Concealing it wouldn't help, mind you. I know you have tried, for my attempts have been bleak and fruitless and made more pitiful each time.
Press me of charges regarding discreteness and I shall not plead innocent. I have always been detached from the world of humans, as they so proudly call themselves, that I wouldn't mind being exiled from this planet, a most fitting sentence if I might add.
But that was before I discovered (rediscovered) that there's such a thing as hope, no, not just petty luck made up for those with empty stomachs and bare feet and by those with willingness to help them but not enough means, but a great force which binds them together. And that was before I met you, for it was when you came into my life that I was able to believe in it—in life, I mean.
I am lousy at introductions. Perhaps I didn't need to tell you. Most things about me have been left out of our little conversations. But it's as if you already knew. It may be this which is enough to make one want to share life's experiences with you. It's a gift you have, I suppose. Part of weaving different worlds together to create prose is this irresistible charm you have with people, not excluding myself this time.
I gave up on trying being nice to other people when I was twelve. That was the time when I was voted "least likable to have as field trip partner". Right now that wouldn't have had any effect on me but back then, it was about as harsh as hydrochloric acid on onion skin, what would you expect I was twelve, plus I hadn't started that wonderful or horrible change (depending on how you view it) either. I believe the metaphor of a chrysalis has been degraded by friction, even the great wall is ready to fall. It would be much nicer to describe my metamorphosis in comparison with. And to this moment, you're the only one I've ever told.
That I am taking up space that you never expected someone like me to take up--
Yet I did.
And now, everything fell into place
I thought I feared the same things
But now I realize, there is nothing to fear really
I shouldn't have been scared in knowing you
For I could only know myself through you and admitting my true feelings to myself
It wasn't long after we met that I found out how I really felt
There were so many things that lie before me, that cluttered my mind
Blurred my vision so badly
There was no space which let me see the route around all that.
Or is it the pain in my chest entirely new to me
And I can't doubt it is the worst I've had
And the person causing this pain is the same person which brought me happiness I couldn't have had in eternity hadn't we met.
I will not wish for this pain to not have come
Or for it to go away, for it is the only thing I could hold on to given to me by someone I can never have.
