So here. I cannot force myself into a state where I know a need in me to be understood lies still to be checked for feasibilty. I kinda was hopin’ for another word. Sounds too researchlike, but anyways. There. I know wicked words. And everywhere.
I guess I must tell of how "scenic" got redefined for me. Almost too real. Almost. But then again that’s how it is for some of us. Some words are bad enough. Then we place it upon ourselves. It is okay. I know who I am. No more fictions all-of-a-sudden making more sense. Though, it is good to know of imageries already around. Collective beliefs.
Fond memories, huh? Perhaps they might come as easy as the bad ones did. This time. Let me see . . .
You force yourself to smile because you know I prefer you that way. And the way your face slowly stretches across from ear to ear, never contorted nor with a twitch on certain sides. I loved you then. Yours would stay the sweetest. It was the sort that shies down in fear of being seen, yet it just tickles itself out until it cannot be hidden anymore. If only I do not know sadness.
It was not even an evil smile, not one that treads on a laughter, suppressed as much as one can. Yes, subdued. Moments upon moments I look for words. Beautiful words. Elegant. Redeeming the regal perhaps. Facades, made of walls. Decadence.
Yeah, for now, again I abandon this here. Off to another page perhaps.ü Have a good day.ü
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