Feeling like a trip to Vegas would do no justice to this emotion. The utter thought makes no sense in reference to this emotion, unknown but not unable to acknowledge what that exactly is keeps the mind roaming, like a telephone call lost in translation, “ring, ring, ring”, eventually heard, receiving or hearing a click across the meter of some wire, somewhere, finding and awaiting those words, in any fashion of course, seeking but no longer hoping for something new, impressionable, something more so within reach then the heart that lays in your hands, her hands, his hands, whose hands, that of whom it was giving to, that of whom has the undeliverable gift to settle such a score, “cling” is the noise made by these silent swords. Now left in this state of what is merely a dream, continuing to defer what is true and visual, not near nor far-sighted can create a translucent appearance but only you can bring color, clear, fresh and airy combinations of what is willed for.
-EH
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