In The Arms of Sleep

Lincoln Center. A vastly beautiful evening. The souls of so many forgotten, flourish this night. A woman sits in peace, surrounded by blocks of red and turquoise, spiced chocolates, tiny shots of thick, muddy, black coffee. Cherubic in her nature, starlight in her hair. In consideration of every fortune, talent, and potential she is blessed with, still, she knows there is something massive and magnanimous missing in her life. The pain associated with the emptiness is seemingly perpetual. Empty shell, empty heart. Motivated, driven, and trying so hard to not be presumptuous about too much of anything at all. Generally speaking, that typically leads to a very broken outcome- tangled heart, tangled neurons. I wait patiently for the man, whoever he may be, to sort of just....fit into place whenever the time is right. For me, I feel that the time is always the right time, but the variable is the person-- Finding the right person, and knowing that he feels so surely of it about myself as well.Still...... I can't quite help but continue to wonder about my darling friend, that electric eel........