I thought I loved from the depth of my bones But I only loved the concept, my idea of what I thought a lover should/would/could be. My passion is hollow. Perhaps I’ve never felt anything but a Dream. Lie. Construct. Skin-deep, afraid to dive in Such a talker, not so much a communicator though. I... Continue Reading →
It would be a wonderful friendship, if it wasn’t for the inconvenient truth that I’m still in love with you.
It seems obscene that the human body is capable of producing so much grief without shriveling up completely to grant some sort of ending release.
My brand of strength is nothing more than a coping mechanism, a way to survive. I rise above the sadness by smothering it with shame, but it’s always there, growing with every disappointment and heartbreak.