And I did, I did believe that a difference would be visually clear.
That the resemblance of even a string of endurance, assurance, clarity.
I guess that that was the ultimate desolation for me.
Expecting without knowing.
Knowing what the consequences of wanting were.
Deficient amiable devotion.
Perhaps it was my abundant tending, desire.
Perhaps just my inclination.
I can sit upon hours of empty feelings and wonder, with assumption and fault myself.
Perhaps is was the constant skirmish, the harsh words ands strong feelings.
Projected.
With claims of adoration and feelings unsaid.
A weary look as he shares his touch with you.
Claiming innocence.
A storyteller of sweet, raw emotions flowing towards which tumble into ecstasy and then oblivion.
