Exude

I try to play with words that exist entirely in Webster’s book; and I hope that somehow, they would coexist with the entirety of what I feel about you. I take chances with obscure rhymes that may catch your attention, pleasantly sugarcoat the same sound-endings of words that may seem meaninglessly meaningful put together. Like how we are, at times, together.

And then, there are times when I painstakingly lose all hope of finding even a tad piece of inspiration. Where a breathtaking picture of galaxies intertwined in space lay in the imagery of my words, sometimes evaporate and diminish like a soap bubble in a thin layer of air. And I breathe, and I taste the salty atmosphere. The atmosphere disappears in a momentary shutter-click of the eye, like a slug desperately trying to survive from its imminent death.

Love and pain exist, and coexist; like how you and I exist, and coexist.