I had two Betta fish: Humbert Humbert and Lolita. AKA, Hum and Lo. Humbert died about a month ago; and it's been just Lo-fish and I. I will be buying another Humbert soon. There cannot be one without the other. I am considering a pet cat. I would love to have a furry animal, that purrs and curls up next to me to watch the Food Network or re-runs of Criminal Minds. I've not felt the least tiny bit inspired to write poetry; my life is quite a bore. It seems, to me any way. I get up, go to campus where I read, write and read and write some more. I have been reading a lot of good poetry and literature, as of late. John Milton's Lost in Paradise and the Best of Dylan Thomas. Neither one of them fail me; they keep me entirely entertained 110%. I also feel like a baby, a child and complete and total novice, idiot writer next to those two master writers.
I am working on falling out of love; and it is proving to be very hard, difficult if not impossible to do. This poor unfortunate man I met over a year ago on campus. I knew instantaneously without seeing his face I would love him.
And I do, or did or will or something.
I went to get an espresso drink today at a place he and I have been to on several occasions. I felt an ache; a hurt, a sorrow, a longing from deep within for him. For his face, his conversation, his smile. To just be near him once more. If I trusted him to not break my heart, I'd go back in a flash.
But he's just going to hurt me. Better to be away and learn to live as I am, than venture into his sorted world. Who wants to feel hurt? Know such pain? Not me. I've seen a few other men here and there. It is nice to be wanted, to be desired. I know deep down my heart has been removed from my chest; my love, and every flame or hint or glimmer of maybe even 'liking' or being 'attracted' to some man is gone. He stole my heart entirely; and I don't see him in any hurry to return it. Odd and strange as it is, I've not seen nor talked to him in over a month. Yet, some how on the inside of the remnants of my heart, traces of dreams left on me as I wake. I feel like I've always been with him; will always be with him. Where ever it is I am; he is. What ever it is I do; or he does. I am rambling, I'm sick and probably getting to some kind of delerious from sneezing, stuffiness and a headache. What a comparison that is: physically ill or love. Ha ha ha ha ha snort giggle laugh.
Whatever.
