Dreams and Sewing Machines

Often times, I find myself lost in my own mind. Swirling and spiraling down to decadent ideas and demented thoughts. Amid all the din and clamor of the surroundings, there was you.

A ghost whose existence pervades even I.

You, a fleeting ideal.

A continuous memory.

A woman whom had once captured what I sought.

A lady whose smile could launch a thousand ships.

A girl who survives, despite all odds.

One call that I never expected at a time that was quite untimely, yet my guts said otherwise. What I heard was not the woman my ears remembered. What I heard was the princess crying on the rubble of the castle walls that she oh so carefully built up to the sky.

As sparks flew, and an ember started to come alive, I knew that your sanity was up to the words that I could muster. The words that people say are remarkable. The words that I believe is my curse and my gift. After a dose of nicotine, the machinations of my brain allowed the trains of thought to once again come alive. Desperation overcame my being as I glanced left and right for words that would console the weeping.

As your rouge tears ceased, and your smile was once again heard, I felt a lingering sense of pride. I felt that along with you, I also saved myself. You are the ears that I turn to when everyone else have fallen deaf. The one solace I run to when I am overcome with exhaustion.

So fair lady, please continue.

Haunt me as you will. Haunt me as you wish. Your dish shall be served once we meet. :)


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