You walked until I couldn’t see your face anymore


From the strangers in our homes. To the strangers we call our friends. From the faceless forgotten lovers returning, to those we share our beds with.

It’s that unfamiliar feeling, that leaves you on the edge of madness. Needing to go through a list to interpret someone’s actions and inactions. Their words, spoken and unspoken. The desperation that some past knowledge can make these strangers familiar again.     

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The more you care, the longer the list. Riddled with arguments you make on their behalf. Defences by you, for them. Excusing every negative with negated positives. The biggest item on the list for the religious is God. The married religious, I truly weep for.

When the list burns you, hope heals you. Until disappointment cuts you and the cycle repeats itself.

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You give it time…you give them space. But time ages and space is empty. So you are left in the abyss with something old and lonely.

For a while you survive by feeding off the old to sustain the unrecognizable new.

That simply will not do. We have to keep creating new life. When we can’t…then it’s time to go on a dangerous quest of death and rebirth.

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Then there are those times…when the stranger is you.

Not inspired by the famous Tamia song…might as well be though.

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About obialone
I'm random and unwise. I'm always seeking wisdom in its simplest form. I'm scared of not being scared, so I find ways to terrify myself. I care about everything, and I'm interested in all things. I reserve the right to change my mind, anytime. So in most cases I find it best to humble my opinion

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