(Disclaimer: This is a self-imposed post to reach my at-least-3-posts-per-month quota. That being said, whatever comes out of this will have been written by my inconspicuous alter ego.)
She's infected. Or so she thinks. Or so she's trying to feel.
That tiny twitch of light has been in her breathing space for years. And yet, try as she might to be absorbed by it, there's always that spritz of mist that weakens the glow.
She's had crushes, and have become a bit more smitten in some. In all those moments, she hid behind a hazy smile that contains every ounce of giddiness recalled in living memory.
She walks barefoot, unnoticed, with a deafening drumbeat flooding off of her chest.
All she wants is to go home to a Slow Show, cap off the night saying Goodnight and Go under a perfect shade of Dark Blue. She wants someone to dedicate First Day Of My Life to as easy As Lovers Go.
The stars will align in time but for now, she's content living vicariously through music that mirrors her longing.
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