A hug would be nice. Maybe a little footsy under the warm duck feather duvet. Even a stroke from a gentle hand on one’s back could quench the urge to feel awfully sorry for oneself. So many souls around, yet they seem to all swish past in a rush to conquer a more suitable heart. I get it… Maybe there is no room for One in most hearts. Maybe an orgasmic high is the new way to care. But how many highs does it take to realise a committed soul that would like nothing more than to nurture and receive the same. Life never waits. Someone removed the pause, fast-forward and rewind button. We are stuck with one button.
-frank malaba- (the morning minute collection series)