Your calloused hands and your burnt tongue do little to comfort me in these dark ages,
an era of grown and learning, yes, but also of brash realizations and potentially harmful experimentation. i think of you often and in heavy, burdening thoughts. these ideas at a constant frantic rush to find the next aimless braincell to overturn and take complete control of. such is a very similar manner in witch the nicotine and cannabis loves control your every move. giving pleasure to get pleasure, are we darling? that is how the rumor goes at the very least. disgusting. utterly repulsive. the fine line between fun & fondness and obtuse abuses is crossed with little concern for your health and safely and absolutely no concern for the feelings and well being of those who are closest to you in your heart. and i selfish? and i asking too much? can love drive these actions or is this merely the cry of a desperate man wanting to feel young again? like he had in those years past, now long lost to the tides of time.
every day i sit and try to believe our love is still real, exsisting and true, just merely misplaced amongst our other emotions, yet with each passing second it grows harder to see that as reality and not mythical fantasies created simply as a false ray of hope by a beaten and broken old heart. worn and torn from the tides and the storm...
only time will tell if our rivers shall intertwine again.
smoke and covers the edge and love blinds whats left. we must use our truest senses to feel, to smell, to see, to hear, to taste our future.
is it palpable still? or a bitter brew of lies and truth?
i am uncertain we will ever know for certain...
moving forward, but not truly onward yet,
<3
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