We live between
bad choices
and worse ones,
and we choose the bad,
hoping that at least
we shall survive.
Mere survival is what
alot of us sometimes
sleeplessly
struggle for.
Love can be mastered. Days as they surpass each other love can grow where it never was. Though, the art of loving yourself is surely a hard seed to plant, grow or finally harvest.
There’s nothing to be pressured about.
The chance of dying without ever tasting what you crave is real, and alive, breathing down your neck.
And no amount of pressure will ever change that.
Peonies on caskets. It's all yours. your wait your study. Engulf in your time and if it kills them you can as well send them condolence messages and lovely peonies to be put on there caskets.
If you think I need love, read me instead and dare to accept what you have seen on the crappy pages. Cram me I yearn to be known by not the world but you, the one who think I deserve some love.
Maybe the only lesson life has for us is love for what we were, for what we are, and for what waits, even as we slip into whatever comes after.