Archive for December, 2012

Lady of Winter

Lady of Winter

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Sentiments are pathetic, really. I haven’t completely turned into a psychopath yet, thus I am still ought to at least acknowledge the feelings as they rise; as they exist and persist only to add to the irritation.
Through the following, I hereby acknowledge a flamboyant state of unexplained, and certainly unwanted,  nostalgia that surfaces as reminiscing involuntarily imposes…
Emptiness is no longer a valid state when reminiscing still purges memories into oneself. And how could one be so vacant when nostalgia compensates for the void within?
There’s a memory that never fades, that no matter how quick one heals and how perfect the wound seals, it remains so vibrant, so poignant; so significant that it soon mimics the presence of what’s been absent.

There was once a feeling; now crippled, if not dead. And every time your heart craves it, your mind slowly flourishes a memory, that revives the corpse of how it once felt; to be alive.  And it soothes the soul, because the intensity of what pours into one’s mind is so drastic that it dramatically flips everything upside down; turning the vacant full, and the absent present.
So close…

So close it becomes to how it was once like.
The beauty of a world once created now crumbled and collapsed. Its relics shrank into a memory, its realms bound by the premises of a mind that apparently failed to comprehend what it is like to forget.

And the more you push yourself to forget the more your mind squeezes fertile visions of the lagging past that overlaps its present. A blurred mind, an impaired heart; soon they both embrace the warmth of remembrance rather than the ache of fighting it.
And how could one not remember when what it was is nothing like what had ever been nor anything of what will ever be?

So unconditional it came to life, so peaceful it grew, so blind and reluctant it was mislead…
So innocently it withered away.
Missing you is a right I have ceased to attain.

I am where I was once scared to be, but it’s not as scary as the image I once coupled it to within the depth of my imagination. Far beyond gone, I’ve been.
But I owe it to every memory I behold within myself to remember.
To forget is yet only another sin only the ungrateful are to be accused of.
To forget is yet only another tag for insignificance I’ll unfairly label you with if only I happen to forget.