Can I whisper or wonder what I do not know? Afraid, of course, of where it can go. To realize what is not there on all, or most, or many days is still so real. Lines on your face. Memories disappear. Erased. Others fall out of favor or onto the page. Words unspoken still leave a mark on your past, your lips and lifeline. Will you ever tell? Release the smile holding back thoughts meant only for yourself.
Before I go home, knowing my complex definition has been altered by erstwhile thieves and anxious lovers (absolutely one in the same), let me speak. Let me speak. No, at 3 o’clock in the morning, let me whisper bygone intentions I once believed, or was fooled into believing. I am a fool; not an imbecile: a difference not greater than thieves or lovers. It’s a theory that will keep me awake well into the night.
We are what we carry. Impulse, obligation, and instinct pull us through the days, across borders and unfamiliar footpaths. Step wisely and know you have what you need. Pack lightly; too much baggage will deter the enjoyment and hold you back. Wanderlust should not be contained.
