prose inspired

As if drawn away, my broken words don't seem to come today. Sure, I'm a poet. And the ebb and flow of my words will never quite cease. But the awakening brings forth this innate sense of directness in me.

Don't worry, it won't last long.

Yet what I want, what I've never quite found is that tangible connection. Between us, I can almost feel the colors and the emotions. The taste of them lingers in the distant corners of my mouth.

These ramblings can't even come close to making sense.

Somewhere, I know there's bound to be people like me. In this vast human race, the chances of someone as simple as me being completely unique are slim to none. There must be something more.

I've tried to find that here and now. I felt no surprise, or emotion even when it was obviously absent. He wasn't it. I wasn't the boring typical person he was looking for. He'll never quite understand. Seldom does anyone.

However, sometimes in these still quiet moment, I feel as if someone does. I'm not quite sure who exactly they are. I doubt I'll ever actually know.

But I can hope. And I can dream like I always have, with song, with words, with the whimsical thoughts of dusk. I'll continue moving. Breathing, singing, laughing, crying. And one day, maybe I will finally find you.