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Chapter Forty-Seven: "Siren"

10/3/2016

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Picture
I was unsure whether I'd ever see you again, but you came back, you seemed to always come back.

I never really got the chance to really know you the first time.

But you kept coming back, and that voice of yours, that's what captivated my attention. What stopped me, and begged me to listen.

To look closer.

That singing voice, like a siren out at sea, bringing in the sailors and anyone else around that could hear it.

So I told him to pay attention, and fast forward and here we are.

We still do not know much about you, like the recent others, you are fresh, you are new to us.

But you are intriguing, and I will like to know more.

Distance has once again, come between us, and now it is much harder to keep track, to keep conversations from fading.

But I can still hear you sing. Like your voice left echoes that never fade.

They just keep...

...begging me to listen.

Dear Siren, we have not been the best at keeping in touch.

But I know this will be rectified.

There is time.

I can still hear your laugh, I can still see your face light up, and your eyes wide open in amazement.

That silliness that made you who you are.

It is a painting that can not be erased.

So sing.

Let me hear you.

For I hope, you hear me.


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    Tortured Poet

    I have come to realize that along the endearing journey most people call life, I’ve met (and still am currently meeting) countless numbers of women. However, as sad as this might sound, I haven’t exactly been the nicest guy to most, if not many of them.

    It is not because of my actions during the timeframe when I met them, but mostly it is because of the consequences.

    For every action there is an equal or worse reaction, and when it comes to the women in my life, this is often the case.

    I have always had my best intentions in mind, but something that is recurrent is that my emotions tend to cloud my judgement and tend to get in the way of things.

    So let me start at the beginning, recollecting memories, thoughts, and remembering dreams of what happened once, what happened next, and what will continue to happen after.

    ​Welcome to my recollection of true events, true people, but most of all, just the plain and simple God-honest, blunt and painful truth about my Chapters and I.

    Don’t expect a happy ending.
    ​
    This isn’t a fairy-tale.

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