.

I try to stray from thoughts like these. Instead you will usually find me telling myself that that my love and I are the now and meant. From where my feet are planted I have watched as these roots have coiled amongst us, binding us together because we were set here with a purpose, supposed to grow as one. But some nights when you slip in to the dark and my eyes are fixed on opposing walls, my mind tiptoes and back tracks, relives, and worst of all, wonders. It’s like a hinting whisper. It starts with a smirk, like the idea of me wondering is so innocent, a shrug of the shoulder, I haven’t any need of worrying while I wander the what ifs. Besides, the answers are in the pocket of my chest. One must never be fooled by this kind of confidence when walking the road of curiosity. Because there’s a man that walks that road that you will see from a distance, eventually crossing your path if you don’t turn around and run back to where you came from. But if you do dare to cross paths you will see that after he motions friendly salutations, he will then grab you and take into your dark. All your worries displayed for you to see, pick up, and play with. You think it’s wise of yourself to analyze these wonders in your hands. What hurt could it do? That smirk is now gone. That confidence you had may still be present but it wasn’t what it once was. So after daring to cross paths with that man down the road of curiosities, I now suffer from what I call “the linger” which are the wonders that I held when I was brought to my dark. The biggest linger that has haunted me is not knowing if I was planted next to the man my heart belongs to for the right reasons or in the right manor.

But then I’m like, fuck this shit. I got a boy that treats me like I’m the sacred gem of some lost legendary kingdom and a cute little cross-eyed kitty that wants to cuddle. So I can just put my sad poetic self in the corner and tell it to shut the fuck up.