It has been a long time since you've been the center of my pondering, a long time since you have driven my pen. How often I forget to extol the woman who taught me how to love; it's time to give credit where credit is due. You bring a welcome sadness to my life, a different breed of sadness that imitates joy. You are the sinking in my chest that dubs me a living creature, the sugary stab that reminds me I am real. Hurting you was the eighth sin, and I don't believe I have truly corrected my karma just yet I am in debt to true love for chasing happiness elsewhere, and I received my hell well as I molded to the change.
Love is heavier than sadness, more focused than addiction, yet I tossed it around like a crippled plaything. This is a power I am not proud of, though it is admired by many
to gain leverage over love is to deny life's most static rules, but just as well refuse its most prolific gifts. It doesn't take long to realize my error in rejecting you, for I contradict m