In all fairness, I can never decipher the inquisition of those who look up to writers regarding romantic entanglements. Isn’t the obviousness afflictive? Or clearly confusing?
That my tomb will be hearsed with the commonwealth and the tales of my unrequited love, shall be concealed in undeciphered libraries.
And that I would not be the only one hating love?
“Very well then.” He abjures at a viscious decline.
“What’s your genre?” He asked without a warning.
“My genre? ” I ruminate over the riddle, rummaging my memory for monosyllables to describe me.
“The one that can drown me in an ocean of words.” I had a joyful sorrow swinging along.
Picture Credit: Sanjay Pal