I see now, so many of the things i understand about love and sex is the residual knowledge from experiences since forgotten.
Realization gives birth to reflection which leads to understanding and resolution, even if the catalyst of the realization buries itself in the indecipherable density of my lost memories, leaving me uncertain and emotionally instinctual.
Life in it’s entirety until this point has been too relentlessly intricate for me to recall all the events that made me who i am.
My knowledge and perception of women comes from the accumulated conclusions picked from a constant, chaotic hum of sweet lullaby and harsh contradiction.
I’m reminded of this from time to time, when one of these pivotal scenes scales the surface of my endless ocean of forgotten moments..