Thoughts of a Violinist Giraffe

We are troublesome constellations - we dim nights with unhallowed brightness that stings and blinds the eyes.                               Despised, yet we dare to                     cling to the moonlit canvas.                             Stubborn as dumb mules, we reach for other stars                     and mar them with our light.                                       We are fools, believing we are providing desired service every dusk 'til dawn.                     But we only spawn unabashed bias.                         ...

If you haven't already noted from the title, I will be discussing about something fairly personal (and ironically something I haven't really given much thought about 'til recently) on my personal taste of women. Note that I will only be talking about physical appearance , as I cannot claim knowledge as to the personality and character of the individuals pictured (though their roles in various films may have lent them to my preferring their type as compared to others). Also please note that, in the long scheme of things, one's personality and character far outweighs the physical appearance one may possess, in my humble opinion . Though it cannot be denied that physical appearance is what catches the eye for most. Moving forward! As one can tell from the pictures, girls that have slightly roundish yet strong features, along with brunette or dirty blond hair, and eyes that could probably keep all the stars swimming in their spherical universes, really catch m...

In case you wanted to know what I look and sound like hahaha! Cheers!

Do not stop and wonder about affection abandoned to the capricious, cutting wind. Do not stop and wonder  why the firmament, full yet fleeting, shines dim. Do not stop and wonder if all the spoken silence is not quite enough to convince  that the heart shown is hollow. Do not stop and wonder where she will go,  somehow lost in pristine snow and barren woods, or if it’s well to follow. Do not stop and wonder whether moving forward  is still the better recourse that was decided upon and taken. Do not stop and wonder whether there’s any more wonder left to admire aside from her -  and yes, you are mistaken if you insist that she is all that’s left for admiration. No. Do not stop.  No more wonders.  She is no longer yours to ponder. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Initially written on my Tumblr page. Didn't have the time to wait 'til I was home to write it. Had to write it immediately ('cause inspiration and all that jazz)! Cheers!

The tall, white cups of coffee - the stark black font and emerald, spherically encased mermaid that tastefully adorns them - are blurs in the foreground. She hurries in the backdrop of a somewhat crowded, picturesque scene in the coffee shop. She doesn't stand out normally - there is nothing at first glance that would give reason          to lavish even the least attention on her. And yet, like an apple landing squarely on              Isaac Newton's head, eyes are drawn to her. She appears buoyant, studious,                beaming, quiet, coy, and indecipherable         all at once. She is moonlight illuminating the dim nights and silent stretches of time. Unlike the coffee line, all stands still.          Refills are topped off the coffee cups. Thoughts are written on somewhat stained pages, undeniably drenched i...

She was happiest without me - her somber silhouette somehow served to cement that I see only what I was allowed to. And all I was allowed to, were expressions of "almost"                                   and "maybe".           My thoughts dwell and at some moments, swell at the idea that there may still be affection in the eaves.                         But I deceive myself, as it is through markedly unsaid conversation that bring to light the truth that haunts my nights: it was never real. And it never will be. She is, after all, happiest without me. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lots of book-ends sort of poems lately. I think. Not sure. I'll get back to you on that. Cheers!

Our eyes met. And in that instant, the fear that something was lost felt like a cold sweat exacerbated by the chill wind of a particularly cloudy day. I could feel my heart sinking like a ten ton brick. As she continued to where he was sitting, I felt for an instant that all my efforts were for nothing.                  I'm back at square one. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Somewhat old poem. Take a guess when this was made, for those of you who are familiar with me and my going-ons~ Cheers!