My Ramblings

He would worry about me. He had a line of worry painted across his forehead, quite visible if anyone paid even the littlest attention to him. I think the insane words which came out of the mouth of the fanatic in love had unsettled him. Every time we used to have a conversation, either he or I, one of us had always felt uncertain of how to broach this part of the discussion. I was in love too much. We did know that any drivel or any balderdash chitchat would grow awkward if we tried to tiptoe past this topic. "He knows me, he senses me. He feels me, you know. Not my skin, something that is inside me, which I can't touch. He touches that. Maybe that's what they call soul", I was flailing in delirium probably. Pup-eyed, he kept staring at me. I felt the urge inside to convince him that I was not in any haze. I was not intoxicated by the longest shot, that I hadn't had a sip of alcohol in the last three years. But the overwhelm of my delirium might have confused him....