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I know this isn’t forever. Painstakingly, Time peels back all the soft quilts we make of our lives. The bed of knives known always under the layers, but laying down the prick surprises us between the shoulder blades. That final, simple betrayal. Still, still let’s finish this square together, let the light wander the trees let the fields grow wild and my heart love— all its fervent love— |
Sheer fatalism at its finest. Love is silky blessed perfection. Until it isn’t.| Posted on 2019-08-29 00:00:00 | by rws | [ Reply to This ] | |