If my life were a novel...

whenever I mispronounced a place, name or other word- the person to whom I had spoke would grin devilishly and say, "come close so that I may kiss that silly mouth of yours." *sigh*

Whenever I am writing-

a note, a long winded exam question, addressing an envelope to be passed through many hands on its way to my beloved- I like to imagine that somewhere, someone will read it and it will be a twin to someones deceased spouse, lost love, mother, sister. That they will study its curves, lament on its sharp turns- it will make their hearts heavy. It will make their spirits swell, their bodies will falter under the growing disillusion. Then a release will come- in breath, in tears, in pulse. Silent, goodbye.