It truly gets old. How certain people come along and the heart wants to unfold. Going through the same phase with a stranger to be known. And it's the initial thrill that sucks in a repetitive ambition let the fuck down. How many times will it take to gain comforts that lasts. To enjoy someone else that knows self craves to create the memories from a week earned past? It's beyond words of what the heart truly feels. If everyone was real then why is there so many lost even though they've healed? The baffoonery is a sideshow that entertains those who catch on. Forcing self to engage in a different type of unwanted but very well needed norm. Away from the chaos that takes place in relations that end way too fuckin soon. It's better to remain alone that to come back in pain to the same fuckin room. Try or die alone. Adjust to luv and then what when eventually the other person never comes home? It's a revolving door of faces that smile as favorites. And they partake willingly in the mix but yet live a different life as if passions cannot savor it. Taken it's the purpose to cling to another. From afar to get in with life when losing just another luv'r. In due time the beginning is inevitably useless to entertain the belittlement. With new smiles to chuckles that spark curiosities with a plethora of fulfilments. In a cycle of sharing details not everyone needs to know over and over and over again. When it's just one person in a sense of being needed that could settle the nerves as a real friend. The roundabout of the game played just isn't appealing at all. So behind the eyes thoughts build the desired height of each brick paced in the walls...
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