haven’t
tried to unlove you. so gracious for our terrors. so provoked by our lack. as a
concerned cub in a concerned land while writing gets difficult. I watched a
smaller genius as sliding or skiing while we mean by metaphor. those tender
reefs those garlands fettered such mice in those attics. more metaphor more
reality more cages. as to sit in tension, like an ounce of sodium, sweating
with a small head rush. so alerting to fairytales so confused by treasures
while entering is often with perils; so much a creature too much a fount as
created to exist like a queen. healing is often wrangling or extra souls are
inconvenience, if we slowed our decisions. why have we danced, where it becomes,
we chanced, such raw roses?
haven’t tried to unlove you, so
sweet to ask, so treasured for our agonies. a person was woofing over a dear
love for a woman despised her intestines. it was smiles or damage such people
are a little sidetracked. a man dislike strength, as intimate with weakness,
like hell to reason with him. power given in excellence or pain slept on while
lovemaking might occur early hours.
have much unloved you. some person
as inhuman. while it was told those secrets.
it was novella or memoir or both.
seasons between activities feelings made significant or souls too honest to
renege. or so sad by slanting such a tear to fall where it took too long.
a bizarre thought as it might scud
at wonder concerning, it doesn’t matter.
it’s a bit harder a bit more incision
while we opt out on caring. so defensive so tactic some superficial/combative
hurting. but some mean us good some mean us just for now, others try, for
myriad reasons, to grip for longer periods. we will always meet better than—in a
world producing better than—we might hold to our ideals.
