Note Number One
September 25, 2009 by lastgunslinger
You were sleeping as a call for gratitude echoed quite like the way it had done so for countless of times, for countless souls, for countless reasons.
I thought you were quite debonair tonight. I couldn’t understand why I didn’t say that enough.
There was something with your way of doing things that reminded me that after all, I only knew a percent of what I should. You could very much put me in my place quite like no one had ever done for so long. You just didn’t know it.
Your seek for asylum became my source of comfort.
Your mind’s restlessness validated my long contention that I could absoulutely not be the only one.
Your obsessive compulsiveness countered my blatant disregard for placed protocols and my deviant wrecklessness.
You blindsided me like I was a novice.
For that, I could eternally be grateful.
