Spellbound

The night is darkening round me,

The wild winds coldly blow;
But a tyrant spell has bound me
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow.
And the storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below;
But nothing drear can move me;
I will not, cannot go.

-Emily Bronte

I often wonder what goes on in his head-- I wish more than anything that I could know someones everythought about me. I wonder, and I hope that he thinks of me only in grace, although his words are harsher than these New England winter wind chills. I hope his malaise doesn't represent his inner thoughts. I gather his quips and plaster them on the inside walls of my mind as if to curate a museum in honor of his coldest moments. As I stare blankly at his words, I feel my emotions gather in me like a scolding cup of hot chocolate, as it spreads from my typing fingertips and to my core. The evergrowing uneaesy feeling overwhelms me as I wonder if the storm will ever pass. 

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