i was told to stand in love. effortlessly falling into an abyss, my middle name, love. surname: his kiss. longing to develop the longevity which to be the epitome of happiness the big house. 2 and 1/2 children (terrier included) and the white picket fence i adored love. love the way it tasted upon my tounge within my eyes in my inner honey supple thighs the way it rippled and waved swayed and misaligned the silence that disrupted within me could this be a sign that i love love. that i want to say i fucking hate the inner workings of how soulmates dissapate and future long loves never connect yet always effect the way i think about a Sade song the way i turn and think about him when I smell a passerby wearing his cologne how i misstep to the Dells purposely just so i wont think of him intimately. i was told to stand. stand firm and hold onto those tendon filled muscles in a stance when i'm weak. stand firm and collide with tears in the dark and dampened pillows awakened to the day.