Frills and Furbelows of my conceptions!

It’s been a while since I thought about my conceptions. It seems wilder now and aggressive too. I know I overdue my visit here. I should’ve paid a visit at least a while. But, it’s just water under the bridge. I would not help it.

My wooden fences are looking direly emaciated and tried to devoured by some bugs under my pillows. It was painted with my favorite colors back, but now it is colorless and paler. And, I can see some clotted stains similar to the dark specks that on the left end corners of my memories. Pathetic, it seems, but it’s all my fault.

My leeways were far and wide, but now it looks narrow and crooked. The thorn vines are creeping in maximum possible speed. They are trying to valorize themselves all the way, and they succeed it. I searched for the orchids and the fluffy grasses that I brought from the wilderness of my heart at my lonely midnights. I cared a lot for them, and never forget to pat at least once a day. And, they wont to usher me to the ineffable brooks of my dreams.

My orchid, my beloved red hearted companion, who grabs my finger tightly when I start to say my farewell every evening also looks blighted. She was the one who I never forget to share my peeves at the dawn of the weeks. She had a nectar that can wilt up any deep wounds in my heart.

Irrecoverable was its state-of-art now. I couldn’t bear to see my companions in such agony. It’s all my fault intact. I shouldn’t have done this to them. They loved me a lot and I was the only hope they have. Now their ill-struck state is crippling hope of life wither that I asserted as an asset lifelong.

Though it is apparent in front of my heart, my soul cavil about and bleakly trying to convince my furbelows of my thought.

I tried to do my ablution, but the stains of blood that I caused to shed from my bosom companions heart stood still with rage to gnaw me entirely. It’s an inexpressible feel of pang and extremely inscrutable. It kept nailing my heart more and drowns me to the deep darkest corridors of resentment.

Definitely, I have great regret and equal feel of sorry, but I don’t know how to covey by pain and my eager to help them outrightly.

I know they still love me and desperately wanting me to do something for them. But the wild vines seems more arrogant and envious to me. When I tried to uproot them out, they began to outshow their innate ravage on me either. That made me more vulnerable as well as intolerable.

But I know, I’m the only one who can help them. It is that stand that may mitigate the dilemma. So I decided to step out, even I’m alone.

As the heresy, “the first step is the hardest” I shove off the thick vines packed with thorns and cut the wild bushes away from the heart that rooted deep over time. But, it’s not impossible to through them away and cleans my facades of heart look beautiful again.

And I can make it a garden again and restore the smiles of my companions. And I have done it.

“Restore the hopes of beauty even you gone wild and deep darks.”

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