I wonder if it is wrong to be thinking of you. Perhaps these thoughts are the product of a broken heart. Though I took my pulse and my heart seems just fine. Then could it be that loneliness is the catalyst for your image in my mind? Perchance, yet solitude has always been a drug to which I can’t decline.
It is well known that a scientific approach is always far more effective than an emotional one, so I continue in my attempt to identify the variables.
For now though, I enjoy the place that thinking of you has taken me. Someplace where reality takes a break and illusions continue to persuade us that life is what we make of it, not just that monotonous curse which has caused me to be panic stricken when I think about the future.  Floating like an ash on the breeze, conceived by the flame yet lacking fire.
Once,
I don’t remember when,
I would answer subtle desires and urge a new beginning with every passing of the steady hand of time.
Now, standing still and stagnating in the wake of fearlessness I find myself without any real concept of emotive thought or fun, or love, or ‘beingness’.
And then here you come along, a little spark.
A reminder, if nothing more,
That there are people to enjoy and endeavours to pursue.
Regardless of the reason, fear not that I will aim too hard to please you. This curiosity has appeased me, at least until once more, while resting in an arbour, desire and hope evade me and motionless prevails in all I feel.