Love Too Late

  • More often than not, opportunities tend to draw near right after the breaking point of giving up. For this reason, I have found peace knowing I could never truly acquire that in which my heart aches for. Even my mind knows not of what is to come, yet a feeling overcomes as I look past the past and into a solitary present, giving no attention to the future. 

    Still, my being wakes my mind which is in dire need of restful slumber. Shouting from an Angel as Demons converse sweetly unto the small of my thoughtless mind. Would we be able to meet? What course of action must be taken for us to finally be with each other? The more they speak, the more I question. The more I question, the more I realize that my time will only be when She is ready to trust the void.

    As mundane as it may seem, I will inevitably repeat my mistakes. This repetition will vary slightly, but the lesson will always be the same. Seldom do I apply that in which I've learned to real world solutions, as my thoughts race faster in a virtual realm. For this life to me us less real than that of my mind. Hell, even the constructed worlds by written words are far more real than this reality I fail to perceive proper.

    Could it be, that my nothingness has meaning? None of us matter, and yet to Me, you are worth more than you think you deserve. Mayhaps my thoughts are corrupted by the plague that is my openness and desire to love. My nothingness is grand in ways unseen by this materialistic plane of minor existence. I refuse to leave until I know we can meet. Wherever you may be, I will change the script for our minds to meet sooner.

    Just getting out of this uncomfortable skin, I am now ready to abolish my negativity in hopes my sardonic way of mannerisms can somehow reach you from the depths of our subconscious mindscape. Who really is to say how we will meet? Our free will has little to do with the actions and thoughts of everyday life. Not in this world, not in this life.

    So I leave you with a glimmer of hope, a simple speck of dust that is the seed in which our roots will form by awkward encounters that quickly turn to memories unforgettable by even the most severe of mental illness.