i was wrong and that's ok i will live to see another day i will not, however be quite the same transformed by the loss of you and all of the shame that swells and floods comes crashing, like waves that taunt and haunt this path for me, paved a "you" focused soul, so alive in the giving this, the only way i understand, called real living yet brutality strikes time and again what i think that is real all in my head, heart, a sin it seems that i, just don't get it give in most everyone much happier in focus, first and last, just on them what they want and need what they can gain from "the take" in receive and when they are done it's on me, left alone to solve then, the puzzle what is wrong with me, the love lost, no home inside of me to feel strong, safe, secure there once was a time i thought i was sure that trust was a gift that most would not betray so whore-i-fied to learn here, this all just a play of words and emotions rarely real, beyond the moment and at the end of the day all you are, you must own it every perception, misplaced every time you fell, from another's good grace every time you sold your soul for the fleeting warmth, an embrace that was forgotten, the moment pre-planned, gone, left, no trace of remembrance or acknowledgement it takes two, a bond that lasts either a lifetime or for the all too common "didn't mean much, so then not very long"... someday to die in the arms, another a lover, compassionate strong who sees, understands for some of us the path is tumultuous, long for the lasting of love, pure there is no hand, place, cure amongst the "care less" want, wealth and "the never can quite trust yourself" to ever know, when its safe less, a land of ruin and rape to be naked, vulnerable "mask off" and sure for the dreams, visions "belong to you", beautiful what some of us will put ourselves through endure. bowen hart roselli 26 may 2020 ringwald love
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