Something Like Joshua

I am almost always hopeful. Allow my mind to slip into fantasies of the grandest kind. I am almost always honest. Try to live by the words that make me so, these words that force me to be true to the person I long to be. I succeed at being myself, still seldom I imitate the woman I long to be. Each day starts out with the unbeatable hope, the possibility of something extraordinary. Each day ends with the beaten realisation: change comes slow but it almost always comes when least expected. I am almost always true to what I think to be righteous. I bend for no-one, except the ones I love.
 

That ever elusive, that intangible, that poetic mellowness that oozes from the mild mannered bellows of your seductive, deep voice. It keeps me grounded, chained. If ever there was an escape, there is no longer a route I can take to free my soul of you. Not of you, but the thought of you. The whimsical, flimsy, earth shattering power of you. The illusion of you, the illusion of such power. It keeps me whole and sane, standing resolute amidst the most violent tempest. Standing firm as a beacon, like a lighthouse, to guide the wandering souls home. This is what your words do to me. This is what you do to me. 

Surpass the rational. Write three chord songs about heartache and the imminent pain. Fool those who are willing to be fooled with your mischievous smile. Say, is this what you had hoped for? Confide in solitude and silent darkness. Confessions of inaptness, self doubt and humility will stay neatly bound, hidden. No dark deep enough could make me turn from you. I cling to the sorrow you resonate. Loyally I stay dedicated, ardently  stupendous, in awe of you.

I bent for you a long long time ago. I ask nothing in return, you won’t even notice the weight. There is sometimes darkness but mostly light, wholly inspirational passage from your words to mine. This is what you do to me. You won’t catch yourself flinching at my confession. Can I hope that you will read? I hope you never will. The dark that passes you finds home in me. Fictional as it may be, I use it to build words, sentences which then fly aimless in ether, sometimes locking with the ones you’ve made. We may never know. 

From time to time I keep thinking that something like Joshua is what I need to find.