we are, we are, we are-
They tell you to write and and write and write, because it is your passion and therefor you should not deprive yourself from it. But it is Wednesday, February 14th- and I have nothing new to say. You left, you left, you left. I've written countless pages concerning your departure and after all this time …
"... the sun here shines"
"& I did"
"The loss of you is not to blame"
Ideally We were meant to fall in love With the colors of the summer sky & the sound of the singing sun. Instead, We ensnare ourselves In the shades of loveless fiction- allowing ourselves to be enticed by the pretense of adoration. It's difficult, but at least attempt to remember that People disappoint Places don't.