Tweetiff

The wind whispers only so much comfort. I can choose to sit here and let the binds tighten or twist and turn hoping the knots loosen. Both seem unlikely to get me out of this game quick enough to escape the quicksand beneath my feet. Either way the clock is ticking slower than the timer in me. If that is a good thing, I don’t think I understand why. Yet.

What is it that draws this back, every time? What’s the cheat code that it seems only I can’t see.

I wonder if truly you are nearly as beautiful as I believe.

Or am I that fool romanticizing everything?
I can only hope to be able to close my fingers around that one word I’ve been building my entire life upon. The very word that we can let roll off our tongue repeatedly but find awfully hard to hold true to. Maybe placing all hope on one word is a ridiculous affair. But maybe has never been the best confidante because somehow is overbearing that way.

I'll pretend I know not of your thoughts and even the way that they mirror my own.
Simply because I have to find that word and keep to it like I promised to.

'Cause as long as it's kept I'll be fine.
=)