trap

Nostalgia is a trap. Regret will paralyze. Desire is either fire or honey, I can't decide which.

We continue to decorate our interior walls in order to tolerate the isolation. Who dares to be lonely when you can instead have a staring contest with the Mona Lisa? Just don't have a smiling contest because she always wins.

My heart is for lending, from time-to-time. There's a due date, though. I want it back before anymore of it shows.

I want to mine my mind for whatever it has to offer. I can't do this with distraction. I can't do this with demands. You are a distraction that demands and keeps me from diving below the surface. You are a sweetheart so much so that it breaks my heart. How can something so sweet want to love something that's covered in coal?

I've decided. It's both fire and honey. The fire burns, the honey treats the burn. We are now back at square one. How do we begin again? Will we?