Typical
It’s what every guy does.
Faithfulness and loyalty are a thing of the past, just like chivalry.
Anyone who possesses those traits is vintage because our era does not love the way we’re supposed to.

In our own right, we’re all liars and karma usually does rounds, and it’s not too long till karma will read you your rights - you have the right to remain silent.

Anything you say can be used against you in the court of law - courtship was how it started.

You see, I had a stable relationship with my dreams and things were getting pretty serious.

I was loyal to my dreams for as long as I could remember. I used to open doors for my dreams, make sure my dreams stayed fed and I even had to cut ties with people who didn’t have the vision or perspective to see further than where we were - I cut off the blind.

Till this day, some of them still wonder why. Stevie, Wonder.

I would live for my dreams because dying for my dreams actually wouldn’t make sense but I worked on my dreams like I was dying tomorrow and all I wanted was to live long enough to have loved the doubt of my dreams.

One cold day, my dreams were out on business. It was one of those days where I could work from home, but my dreams couldn’t. My dreams were away on business and the bed got cold.

I was never used to sleeping alone so I hit up an ex, or two. Insecurities never pass up the opportunity for a late night ******* and neither does doubt.

This is a twisted *******, because my dreams are now tangled in a love triangle - or a love square ... I don’t know but whatever it is, it’s reshaped my vision and now from working out everyday, one night turned it all around and now I’m out of shape, still moving but in a circle. I’ve been around, but not long enough for a pattern to form - I gave up.

Faithfulness and loyalty are rare and outdated and chivalry is a thing of the past, and one would be considered vintage for possessing those traits.

Much like me, I don’t possess those traits but I’m a traitor to my own society.

I believed in myself long enough for the sight of greatness to manifest but one unfaithful night made me regress and now I’m broke.

I spent all my ambition on land that isn’t fertile. I thought I was planting my greatness so it could grow but I was burying my greatness and I realized I had let it go.

We don’t Resuscitate dreams, we replace them. Well, I do.

I promise to have and to hold you, in sickness and in health, till death do us part.

What ushered most into matrimony, tied me to the death of my dreams. Till death, do us part.

The day greeted her with the morning sun
As dew turned to tiny droplets and mist disappeared while the light appeared, it was evident that it was a new day.

She turned to her side and her skin was met with the cool touch of her lover.
She was facing him but he was facing the other direction but she didn’t hesitate to pull him into position so her lips could converse with his and their eyes could get reacquainted after what just felt like the first kiss - she was happy.

Her soft morning voice mustered up the strength to say good morning and he chuckled and looked her dead in her eyes, almost in disbelief that she was his.

“Good morning” he whispered
His smile painted the room
It got bigger with every second she spent looking in his direction
She giggled because she should be used to this but all of this feels just as new as the day that’s just started - they were falling in Love all over again

She played her hands along his face
The tenderness of her hands provoked the goosebumps on his neck and body with cold shivers leaping around his body, and butterflies learning to fly for the first time in his belly - he was in love all over again.

“Do you know why I love you so much,” he asked.
“I never get tired of hearing you tell me why,” she responded.

Just as he was about to start telling her why he loved her so much, a loud roaring sound pierced her ears, and she could hardly hear anything or make sense of what was happening and she looked at him for help but he couldn’t be bothered, not because he didn’t care, but because it was a dream.

She woke up to the loud piercing noise being her alarm and she turned it off and tried to fall asleep again to let her dream take off from where she left off but it was just a dream.

Days earlier, she ran back to the love of her life. She was a day too late. The man of her dreams was just that. The man of her dreams. Time wasted was never time recovered. When she searched, she couldn’t find. When he searched, she didn’t want to be found.

He waited.
And waited.

The day he stopped waiting was the day she decided to stop running from what was destined. Destiny, like time, waits for no one. A harsh reality of our time. What once was, won’t always be.

Don’t be a day late.

Dear You
I have written many stories that tell tale of how my love is wrapped around the essence of your being and how being away from you leaves me wanting more of you.

When I can’t have you, I resort to dreaming about you and sometimes I talk about you but how do you explain perfection to feeble minds, that can’t comprehend the depth of your heart, and they fail to fathom the reason why you’ve always mattered - nonetheless, my feelings I never fail to express, like the express train, my love is filled with different stories on the same track - you’re the choo choo to my train!

On the railways of life, I’ve transitioned from rail to rail, at speeds a little uncomfortable to take turns. Just like the carriages, you stuck by.

For most of my life I’ve been powered by coal, leaving smoke everywhere I’ve been. Not such a bad thing because that only means I was always moving.

I’ve upgraded though.
I’m more of a fully functioning electric train that doesn’t pollute my journey, and it’s eco friendly to you because your hands are no longer ***** from constantly shoveling coal into an engine that turned that coal to smoke.

My choo choo is a little more sophisticated now. It’s got class. It’s got you. On the railway of life, wherever this train arrives, I don’t care. As long as you’re there

He lied
He said he loved you
He lied
He said he cared
He lied
He said he couldn’t live without you
He lied
He said that he was the luckiest man alive
He lied

He lied and I didn’t
I told you I love you
I told you that I care
I can’t live without you
He’s not the luckiest man because I am

I am not his mistakes
I am my own mistakes

I fall down
I get back up

I don’t stop
I keep going

Why?

Because I have you
You’re my secret weapon
When they ask how I do it I just smile and say that I just don’t stop

I just don’t stop going because you keep me going

Our minds function with familiarity.
When your nose picks up a scent you’re familiar with - your mind plays parts of your life where that scent can be placed. It triggers memories.

I was close enough to hear her breathe and while I was lost in conversation, my mind was playing all the memories that associate her scent to different parts of my life.

The notion of your life flashing in front of you in a near death experience is one half of the truth.

What happens when your mind associates a scent that’s been a part of you long enough to play a movie reel of most of your life, based on placing that specific scent to parts of your life?

What happens when she’s been a part of your life long enough for it to seem that your whole life just flashed in front of you, based on your mind associating a scent to the times in your life that it was present.

Her scent tied to so many memories that my mind got a little confused into thinking that my life just consisted of memories of her.

In actual fact, my mind went a step further to associating the feelings tied to the scent, and memories being associated with time I had spent with her, and my nose triggered the association of the time I spent with her so my mind opened up the archives just to find that the clear memories are recent, and the old memories seem recent but they’re not, but every memory is tied to parts of my life that seem to make up most of my life - she’s been there the whole time.

The memories associated her voice to parts of my life when I couldn’t hear my own, and her laugh to parts of my life where I couldn’t stand being away from her. She reminded me of how much I’ve always wanted her and now she reminds me of how much I need her.

She holds the second biggest role in my life, after myself, of course. I’m the lead actor, and not only is she a supporting cast but she supports my craft, too. She’s a Creative, an Executive, an Editor, a Narrator and sometimes even a Writer.

She creates scenes that make me believe, again.

She executively executes her role so effortlessly that I’d be a fool to downplay her importance.

She edits the bad parts, so they make sense and she narrates the story from different perspectives, plotting the synopsis, and playing one of the biggest parts in this story - she’s my favorite character.

She writes my wrongs, and I right my wrongs.

She yells “Cut” every now and then. Between scenes, when I’m on the verge of breaking, she takes me to the dressing room and she helps me take off my insecurities and my fears, and that’s when things usually get clear.

All of this just because she breathed in my direction long enough for me to remember her scent.

There would be no confusion of CPR conflicting the act, or any loud voices shouting ‘Clear!’ And I’d be clear of it all. I would no longer have to live painfully. I wouldn’t have to live life trying to make sense of broken pieces I never had any business breaking.

Do Not Resuscitate me. If I die prematurely, Death is on time. Premature to you and time, based on whose standard, yours or mine?

Truthfully if I was dying I wouldn’t want you stop trying to resuscitate me and you can bet that I’m terrified and I’m waiting to have my eyes open, meeting yours with the tears cuddling your pupils and you get upset with me for wanting to go so early and this fairytale story ends with us living happily ever after, but...

That’s not the happily ever after I want after near death experiences - I want it now.

DNR
No
NHM

*****, Help Me!