Of Writing
August 29, 2009 by lastgunslinger
“I like waiting,” I heard you say.
I wanted to tell you that it was about the same thing I was trying to do but I didn’t want to steal your thunder. You were very big on that and I knew that as I imagined years ahead, you were helplessly stuck to the now and the significant. Maybe I should take a leaf off your book and learn that sometimes, love would get you nowhere.
It was as it should be.
The perpetual ramblings I always managed to come up with would soon run empty and I would hail that day as my greatest.
You might find this amusing the way everyone always found a premise within the words I aimed randomly around. I hid a million stories at the back of my heart. I couldn’t wait to have them shared.
I am a lover.
I am both deaf and blind.
But never mute.
I am a writer.
And I am looking for the one to make me put the pen down.
