Scars

Platonic and romantic love differ by a thread, and when does one meld into the other, or rather, degenerate into the former, there can be no telling. The frequency of meetups seem to dictate the conditions but I may be mistaken.

The situation may be comprehensible, but acceptance is of another sort entirely.

It adds on another scar on my already scarred heart, as I try to mute it and mitigate the pain, but it may be too much insofar that it's extinguished altogether.

It was like a tight slap, that it might degenerate into an obsession. It's not me. At all. To devolve into that mindless slave for love who pines for something so illusionary. But today, I did something for myself, finally.

Resolute

As Xavier Harker takes a firm hold over my mind, I feel, and I am afraid, that I will lose the flame in my life. His pervading sense of lost emotions and deadened throes will soon overwhelm me. I am afraid of losing him. Yet, Xavier is resolute. His cold will reign, and my love may be lost too soon, too soon.

Balance

As I settled into that odd state hovering between jadedness and calm repose that smells curiously of stale marriages, I seriously ponder what is the difference between love and friendship. One looks like the other, or is it that I have misconstrued the idea of love, that assumed stereotype of flame and thunder that accompany the notion of it where both meet every day to satiate the desires of constant companionship. Or is it simply a small notch higher than the other. How much do I love to accomodate all of that usurped notions?

I have to live with the idea that it is not what I had imagined. Is it time to retract myself from it? I have to keep readjusting the expectations and reformat my time. I have to be Xavier Harker again.

Arizona

As the wind blows across the sandy landscape
The tumbling thistle rolls past the sole cactus
Riffled by the dust devils that bespoke
Of that lone hooded figure.
Such is the affair of my heart.