Temporary Haven

 Where are you, My Little lost soul? I cannot see you. Your presence is fleeting. There are only signs that you were here. Are we playing that game again? Where you you get lost and I have to find you? Ooh come on! You're not with me to shine your light...It will consume me, I'm afraid. I need the warmth of your presence. This game is never fair. Why am I the one who always has to do the searching? Will you come to me? I pray you will. You sound just like that voice in my head, always telling me to stop. Until you bring yourself back... Learttes, I know you're there. There's that crinkle of your eyes. It is written in my heart.Today is the day isn't it? You have been dodging me for eternity. You say you're cold (both literally and metaphorically) but I beg to differ. I am colder. What would Ophelia say? Haaa, even I cannot save you from her. I'm sorry I'm deviating. Come out of the shadow and step into the light of truth. You feel as if that darkness wil...

 Yesterday, I told the sunset about you. When I looked, the sky was a darker blue, with a little purple in it; and already there was a star, shining pale and cold over the place where the sun had set. I told the sunset about you, My Little lost soul, have you ever wondered what it would feel like to talk with her? She told me a great many tales... But those are tales of another day. Do you remember when we swam in the ocean, promised each other happiness till forever? This forever is not eternity any more. It's now an hour or two, a day or five, some months here, three years there,but you get it right? Like a child lit with giddy joy they promise, speaking, longing, and their whole lot of nothing turns to a whole lot of something... Yes, I know how you're feeling, someone's sloppy seconds, a forgetten choice...I know. Do you have a heart? I doubt it. Anyway you seem yellow at heart, no more than a chicken, remember, this world is not my own. My little lost soul, never allow...

 Come all ye who's words sound better in their heads than on actual paper (whistles in pain). Welcome, welcome to this place I now call my little haven. Here I am, looking for words I didn't say. Ever had that feeling, that something is right at the tip of your brain,but you just can't reach it? That's what happening here (sighs) Let me not digress. You little lost soul,want to know my name. You have not earned that privilege, yet, but I'll give you something to work with. You can call me Composedapopletic. Sounds ominous I know but I had to play with a little oxymoron. For  mystery's sake. I don't know how to describe this feeling, not sure whether to jump on my mundane bed until it breaks or sit and sulk in a corner in the living room or maybe go outside and stare at the vast expanse that is the sky. Do you know that feeling? Little lost soul? This is not like the time I used to tell you stories of sad little boys in England, or stuck up priors in priories...