Muse

Where do we begin? With you grimness oh so sniggeringly happy in your corner?

Nowhere. You do not begin with a start nor end with a closure. It is without surprise I feel that warmth of familiarity from the very beginning. It seem normal to have you lingering about me. Like as if you move that world of mine despite what soreness you bring every time you lick that broken skin.

It is my guilty pleasure to indulge in what not of norm, but something of penance. And to writhe in disgust and cry in despair, it satiates. Because like him, we both knows the sin we've engraved somewhere in the past. For that we are deserving. Till to date, we are still searching for that persona we are to become. We are silent of those days we spent on reflection. We are silent on those blames we swallow. Because we are guilty at some point in this two decades of life. I wonder if we will have the time to sit down over coffee reminiscing this ma cherie? Conscience is a bitch, n'est ce pas?

And yes, it is tiring to rent this body out to bear the wrath of others. I wonder if insurance covers it......