Following A Strand Of Thought

Taking the baby steps, its odd at first. We’re two dogs sniffing each other out, savoring the taste of difference; the allure of exotic mysteriousness. We’ll start and stop, stutter our way through the bumbling task of getting to know each other. Excavating ourselves for our common interests; rejoicing that we hold parts of each other dear already. Then we’ll start the motor mind a’ thinking. Start imagining the possibility of this scenario, we’ll time warp to the future that never is, but could possibly be. Then we’ll get scared because it could possibly be right, yet the potentiality for wrong hangs over us like a shadow. Now we’ll begin to doubt this whole charade, letting the flood peek through the cracks to overwhelm the tsunami of emotion bubbling through our ephemeral skin. We’re fighting the whirlpool of desire; testing the scale of passion versus reason, and knowing which losing side we’ll always pick. It’s time to start cliff diving; leaving all semblance of safety far, far behind us. We’re strangers now, two kindred souls embarking on the voyage of tumultuous adoration. Sometimes we’ll substitute love for hate, then we’ll make up faster than the day sets; making things almost right again. By this point we’re forgetting the awkwardness; we’re shiny new toys testing out all our amazing kinks. We’ll love most of ‘em, and hold our tongue for the more unsavory bits, but we’ll be so blustered by this new font of emotion that we’ll let it see us through. After awhile we’ll begin to wonder what we were ever thinking. How could talking take us so far? We’re strangers now like we were way back when, but this time the awkwardness hurts, and the mystery is all but gone. We’re stumbling around punch-drunk on the eggshells of a former love; there’s nothing endearing about where this is going. Eventually our names evoke loathing in the other; we’re like rotten eggs to the wilting plant of our relationship. Slowly choking the sense out of this reality we’ve fabricated, as if we should’ve known all along that our collision course was set far ahead of our foresight; the fleets burning now, our ships getting swallowed whole by the maw of our innumerable pockmarked issues. Filling faster than we could’ve ever anticipated, our love drowns beneath the waves into the black unknown of memory---subsequently leaving us as the shattered picture frame of once innocent bliss.