The brush of your steps.

I really couldn’t help myself. My fingers were thinking as the passage of red lights flew by me, energy circulated around me, I awaited a family message, in the midst of a lot of not caring. It’s hard to say what I was thinking, or what my mind was up to tonight… I was looking forward to a hotel bed and shower, a good talk with the family, and a long time sleeping. It was hard to say what was going on, but in a world where honesty is applauded, how is it that you fear in saying the truth? Ha, I smiled. I knew enough, I said to myself. Let me tell you a story, filled with creativity and beauty, with madness and disguise, with a sweet goodbye and a timely hello. 35 was the number, or perhaps it was 92, the answer, is really up to you. Pour the vodka onto an empty canvas, and sprinkle it with lemon. If I’m feeling crazy, I’ll throw in some black beans, and make it a dish. I’m sure I’ve lost you by now, but what’s the point in reading words that make sense anyways? But maybe, just mayb

I'd like to tell you everything, but words stop me half way, and tell me not to tell you anything. It's a fascinating ordeal of going all in, or simply betting the table min, A fascinating ordeal of eating the snack, or waiting for your full course meal. What can I say, I really want the powerful notes, but I fear it may be too much, I fear I will forget the notes that played by my ear as you sent them my way. I fear for these things without knowing, if I can take them both, I fear not because I don't know better, but because better is worse, and the future, inevitable. But most of all, I fear because the paths are obvious and marked, I fear because I know, I will knowingly make the same mistake, I fear because time isn't right, And every path I take I have stepped on in the past, In joy I thought wisdom would bring me peace, and here I lay, helpless, watching the future go by, I watch it crumble, and ask for the check, Dinner's ov

I stepped into the restaurant for the hundredth time, and as always, the memories of our first time came to mind... 'I had walked in, as she strolled in with her beautiful dress into the chair I had pulled out for her. Thoughts were rushing through my mind, as they had been for the past two days. I had asked her out to a nice Cuban restaurant a nice 10 minute stroll from our university. Papi's it was called, and the nervousness I tried to hide. Why was I so afraid, I had thought to myself, god, I was being ridiculous. "Hey, I'm Mark, i'll be your waiter today, let's start off, what can I get y'all to drink :)?" The usual, I'd take an Iron Beer. She looked at me in confusion and I gladly explained the non-alcoholic nature of the Cuban soda I had ordered. She giggled. Mark came back and took our orders as we dreamed on about our desires to travel and our crazy ideas as to where we would go. As we went through the main course, I finally felt a