(Excerpted from a fictional piece)
I sometimes speak in poetic riddles. They convey so much while still leaving so much for interpretation.
Every time we approached rough weather between us, I would mumble, "The cities a flood, and our love turns to rust".....and smile a sardonic whistle. You never asked me where that phrase came from.
Today, I can no longer listen to one my all time favorite songs - without you flooding my memory circuits.
This intrusion is what I call as a blind woman's curse. Go figure.
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