I wanted to
write to
you
tonight.
I hold promise
with
serendipity
and things alike.
We reach a time
we begin to realize
how close
always
has been
a solution
to our demise.
For it is
thinking
our own life
a sort of
place on the horizon.
Such bullshit
to get us through the night.
Read it again
if you don’t
agree.
I think we all
want to
feel
happy in our own
safe little
shelter.
Keep the door closed
and that
scary part of
interacting
won’t interfere with a
self-made solace.
I once remembered
writing you,
and then I trailed off.
apersonaljourney - stories of love 