Out Of Sight, Out Of Mind

                Honestly, it’s so hard for me to pinpoint my preferences regarding any kind of material. Because, whether or not I pick up a book to read or a journal to write in, all I really want is to be heard…

                And, anytime I conjure my happy place when closing my eyes, I immediately see a stage where my vocal cords dance to some sweet & spicy salsa only they can manifest with each tap against one another. Such a wonderful daydream each and every time my mind wanders off into my safe haven, that stage I long to embrace, unapologetically, with a heart stitched back together by Faith only God can provide us…

                Yet, as content as a stage may make me, sometimes I ask myself, what else do I even like? What else am I good at? How can I even begin to find out? Funny enough, though? As soon as I ask myself that last question, my inner child yells for his life…

                Maybe, I can find out more about who I am by not ignoring him, my inner child. Maybe, if I listened to the kid who wants to see a permanent smile on my face, more details of my definitive purpose will surface. Maybe, if I listened to him instead of choosing Mary Jane’s bittersweet company, I wouldn’t be having such a hard time while clouded by flaws I’ve yet to address…

                It’s just so damn hard to let her go! Especially, when all you yearn for is to feel a woman’s touch. Not just any woman, but that one soul your heart desires to intertwine with instead allowing your peace of mind to go up in, smoke…

                All MJ does is disturb my inner peace. Any moment I stupidly run into her arms, my lungs only feel constriction, asphyxiation rather than an elevation from Rock Bottom. She just, makes me so restless by forcing my mind to rewind a marathon of memories trying so hard to feel what it’s like to feel, loved again…

                Her predilection for my frame of mine? A cell where not a single ounce of human flesh can survive without being crisped…

                My predilection for her provisional existence? Our rocky bridge burnt like every wasteful blunt daring to engulf my peace of mind in smoldering flames to no avail…

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