Modern Romanticism

It has been all she’s chosen. With words, she find assurance. Even if a promise cannot be kept, she’ll return to the shell. She’ll return to where what had been audible was first a whisper. She’ll seek comfort in that.

Wide-eyed, curious of mind, and with an appetite to want something that never moves, she’s drawn to all such of similar identity. Here she is seated, upon a couch or it might be a log where moss will grow. Just a stagnant image of someone who chases after the things that won’t develop. She looks to the image of a man who speaks. He’s a politician, and his words are sweet. Whatever she envies that he has will never be granted. It could, to her mind, be anything she might state she’ll “savor”. But that’s her method of slowing its development, its reach, to her.

Though, this scenario is just one example of all else she takes to. She could stand, in the next second, to find a love too rotten to be of anything she’ll develop with. A politician’s words makes its rounds in her mind, though finds no purpose to be there. It coils, like a snake that will do the same, while its shape gets smaller. Then, it disappears. Indeed, she could stand, walk outside to be involved with a love that won’t take its root to birth from the soil in her heart all color to be remembered. For it isn’t even a thing as simple like finding a parasite that will cling. At least, with a parasite, its grasp has a purpose to grow. Its grasp also has a purpose to provide a feeling that, even while negative, is one more prolonged.

Whatever she might find never grows. It just stays for a miniscule amount of time. It might burn for a second or two, though that will go out along with the feeling it brought.

She watches this politician speak. What he speaks is reflective of everything uncertain. We cannot expect a politician to be certain as much as he can be fearless of his own enemies. But at the same time, we cannot expect our own confidence to be absolute, when we consider his words. When we doubt the politician, this serpent dressed in sheer tidiness, it was because we have faith in him. Such a described mindset ought to be one that represents the average. But, to her? What she represents is utter belief. In his words, a representation for what words are, belonging always to a stillness, a stagnation, as words prove nothing of a person, she believes in their power.

She’ll believe in the power behind the politician’s words, the same as she’ll believe in the value behind someone who enters her life in one second to become vapor in the next second. To her, a thing like air that’s devoid of birds or a lake where no marine life lives is where she commits the term “value”. Through air, with its stagnation in mind, or to see her through her life where the same depiction of frozenness is displayed, that’s what we can expect with eyes locked upon her with utter confidence in mind.