A Beautiful Tool of Mastery or... the Art of Deception?

It was 3:00 a.m. I could tell by the glow of the moon. I had become intoxicated by it night after night as we laid to rest, our backs facing one another. How unaware you were to me. My thoughts hushed as the hum of a train in distance breezed through a faint opening in my window. As my thoughts were called to mind what the melody of a memory can do, I was left to wonder. Effortlessly I began to bask in the capacity of my own mind to transport me back to a securer place in time. Willingly, my mind offered me the option to escape. Unapologetically, I accepted it every time.

The gift of my mind was either a beautiful tool of mastery or the art of my deception. I became subdued by your existence as you awoke. Bringing me back to a moment that I connected to casually, like in the way you left your arms around me. Soundlessly my mind whispered all the things I’d give up in the day only for you to recognize humanity in the night.

In the morning I’ll be turned, and my heart will be forgotten. Like the tired sound in an old town just as the night trains lapse through.

In your unwariness of my discernment now lives a souvenir from me to you. It rolls in the hush of the night, abandoning you sober in a series of memories I experienced alone. Can you hear it? The honor I conceived to this occasion at 3:00 a.m. How our minds play against each other like a symphony of reasons yearning to influence what becomes our composition.