Chibimagic's Weblog


Posted on: November 19, 2013

Rereading old works, I remember how the words tumbled from my brain like water, bubbling over the stones of my fingers to crash against the banks of the virtual page. The feelings I’d thought forgotten are fresh and new as morning snow. A soft punch of emotion in the gut. I exhale suddenly, then purposefully while focusing on M. The current flavor of the week. He is beautiful like a Hellenistic statue and my heart longs to run loose; bleed love and lust and unrequited longing through words and words and more words that—what, he will discover and adore and be enthralled by my wit like cupid’s arrow? I’m a decade too old for these games, and anyway I’ve sworn off such distractions. I accept him as a muse: a jumping off point and nothing more.

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