Sunday, October 13, 2013
I tasted the ocean in my tears as they kissed my cheek , but why? Is comfort synonymous with love? Or is comfort simply mistaken for love? To love is to be comfortable, but that doesn't make them one in the same, does it? Like when you can't bear to bid farewell to your first baby tooth. Or when you kick and scream at your first battle of scissor versus tresses. A gash doesn't pain you, but when your eyes catch a glimpse of crimson waterfalling from your wound, it's agony. You taste different on my tongue today. Sweeter than ever, but I for once, crave bitter. Can a corpse be revived once its gone. I'm on life support, I'm a vegetable under your heart's control, but I am secure. I am there. I am breathing. But I am not feeling. Do we pull the plug?