Monday, March 26, 2007

Blue eyes blue

A great man once said,
'Every man's memory is his private literature'.

I'd retort that statement with enough conviction to shake this ol' earth.

My private literature is more than just that. No, she hasn't got blue eyes, but I promise you, there are the most beautiful pair of eyes I've seen in a long time. It is not the eyes per se; for to lay down a judgement based merely on size or looks is severely depthless. Or even severely insulting if I may suggest. Truth to be told, it is everything but the eyes when one looks back in hindsight. It probably is the sheer and utter power of the gaze, the gaze that pierces me so deeply you just hunger for more, more, and even more. A gaze that speaks words, phrases, sentences, even letters I so long to hear.

On a note more than just a side one, yesterday was a good day. Been long, so long Ivan. But it was a good day.

And then she asked me why he was willing to spend this precious ammo on her but he just smiled to himself coyly, and said nothing. But he was just being another Leonidas, cause all he wanted to say was, "Sugar, that's cause you're my precious".

And then another great man once said,
"When I am with you, I stay up all night.
When you're not here, I can't get to sleep.
Praise God for these two insomnias!
And the difference between them."

What the fuck, how am I supposed to retort this one?

posted@9:24 AM

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