Within the Chaos

I want to be dismissive. I want to rely on all the mixed messages and intentional slights and doubts caused by the lover whose best intentions offers me the worse comforting feelings.

I want to hear the heart broken never ending up and mostly downed love fanaticism that exists between the worst of lovers.

Is it within this comfort that my madness simmers? I literally am propelled to chaotic heights suitable for the ultimate love trickster.

But yet this doesn’t soothe me with the endless nights and incredibly vivid dreams. Wine drunken stupors of violent endings, but yet I vilify you just to make due.

I can’t even sink in the darkest of doldrums riddled with hate and disinterest. Even when I attempt to be mischievous my bleeding heart wails for you. I can embrace and entice another, but my mind is only on you.

Why is it when you instantly feign interest with another your world slowly crumbles slowly, ever silently and unbeknown to you.


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