A Way to Keep to Myself Somehow

i'm in the pantry at the moment, e-mailing those who are dear to me, trying to forget the thoughts swirling ever so deliciously in my mind like melting double dutch ice cream. delicious is Love, no matter how difficult everything seems to be, one can still somehow relish the heady delights it brings into an otherwise famished life. it does not make sense, this thing i'm doing--hiding behind words never guarantees the coming of Change. nothing returns, every act of kindness not done, every sob of grief unreleased, every little thing that does magic unacknowledged, they all do not return. they fade, as multi-colored skies fade in the face of the endlessness covering us. now that forgiveness is out of reach, everyday feels endless in that i go on thinking and pretending not to hope that things would make a turn for happiness and reconciliation and peace, or even a semblance of these. nay, nothing gold stays. as much as i want to believe the power of words, such as those bled by a famed romantic--"Two men can defy the world," i cannot, for the life of me, i cannot succumb to such weakness. the unfulfilled kind of love is for the stronger sort like me. and that had better remain as such. for what do i know of Love, what do i know of Love--

--a waterfall of hearts shunned?

grazie per sentendo a me...