In the sheer melancholy slaved by priorities, trying to conciliate pragmatism and going over the mental turmoil; my head over a split second but seemingly so long, breezes into some field so green. Shoulder length grasses, still wet from the morning fog, freshness over the air that carries your smell… I’m walking… and you’re walking beside me. You don a frail smile but I feel so safe… I feel secured. That subsides my pain, my anguish but not my tears in reality… they flow, uninvited, confused as to what they signify? My momentarily bliss by your side or my untreated wounds. Or is my heart asking me to listen to it again, because I’ve shut it as long as I’ve followed my head to avoid the hurt. Is it asking me to step down, to stop the fight and go back to be in touch with the weak part of me- which surrendered but loved profoundly… ?
The Misfit Bug 