the dawn of the rising sun

it's always easier said than done.

to write something you feel speaks the truths of now, but what if the truth's actually lies that your heart has told your head to keep quiet about? because right now, just for now...it feels good.

let me feel good, let me feel like it's real affection. let me fake love...

...because i miss it so dearly.

and this is where the trouble lies for someone who craves the twitch of a secure adoration that will continue to move my days, romance my imagination, perk my dreams and every other spectacular burst of colour that comes with a heart filled with love.

it's all good and fun if your wants and desires both want the same thing, but when you're vacillating all that is, all that could be and all that it is and all it isn't...nothing seems to go the way you want.

attention i should mention is not love, it is nothing but the mildest form of infatuation and perhaps i can never say no because it's so engaging to be desired by another, be it legitimate or simply a taste of opportunity meets perhaps. i don't know and never will of the motives behind each encounter, but what i do know is that i wont reciprocate what i don't genuinely feel.


i'm speaking nothings.

goodnight