We merely bump and stop for measly meetings with voices that disappear as we turn the pages,
Searching for that one thing we desire the most in our sweetest moments,
Hoping he or she may tide us through our dungeons as we trudge through our solitude,
Failing to contain our disappointments when they do not quite meet the ones we envisioned.
We flick through each to bide time,
Assuring ourselves of perfection that may parallel the mannequin in our heads,
Tossing away rare virtues for little glaring flaws we cannot walk past,
Until the day every sand has been dug up in search of treasures hidden underneath.
Fickle minded creatures humans are to doubt and question at the first sight of fault,
Heeding irrational hallucinations conjured from wisps of suspicions edging us to abandon ship,
When they have been floating on peaceful waves for as long as we can remember,
But we simply don’t understand contentment.
Fools for denying what eyes can see and cowards for following what ears can hear,
As we seek to turn to an iceberg before it can ever hit us first,
And we wonder what we ever did to deserve this cold loneliness,
And we wonder why love was deemed to fail when we condemned it to be a failure.
Isn’t a lifetime, a little too long?
Isn’t 90 years,
a little too short?
Do not fear committing to a lifetime just because you’ve never experienced a second love. Why we humans pick apart every little flaw is lost on me, and I refuse to believe myself capable of doing this same thing that I despise others doing to me.
” My mother used to tell me she regretted marrying my father at such a young age. Come to think of it, we are only seventeen. There are seventy more years of being with him and I’ve already thought of a lifetime with him. Won’t I ever regret it if I don’t experience how it feels like to love another man? Isn’t a lifetime, a little too long? ” – 26.11.2016