Drifting Pithiness

The only warm hearth we can always return to is our childhood memories

At every opportunity to not know, I shamelessly choose to know.

The patient sheet of paper – never asking me to shut up.

If only she could love me and not the image of me I wanted her to once love.

On the pavement, my body feels and holds the rush of every vehicle and in that incessant throb, a deep calm and quietening…

Such a pitiful heart which mistakes attention for love

How different is day from night!? My life is not of my plot; my dreams are not of my design.

2 thoughts on “Drifting Pithiness

  1. “If only she could love me and not the image of me I wanted her to once love.” – don't you think at each point its a different image- the “you” that you talk about now, is just another image- the real you also changes from time to time- at each time you take a different snapshot- its a different picture.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s