Yet to find herself...

She falls deep for the bs. It's in who she is. Always seeking the thrill of attractions. Losing self in time due to the distractions. She judges fellas bcuz her choices are shit. N yet, her type isn't what she needs to truly live. It's all a hype in the mind. A fulfillment of cheep interactions that's hard to find. Wanting luv from the a made up version of hope. She just didn't know she's never gonna find the comfort of home. Chasing thoughts through memories that shadow silhouettes incapable of what she craves the most. Damn the heart that cannot understand the opposites that mingle in the mix of what it takes to be alone. In a mental state as she sits in disbelief. Labeling all men in the same sense more useless than a fling. Only if she could possibly correct her mindset. Back to an open process of what's good to the moment to invest. Yet, she's caught up in the visual appearance in a hypocritical phase. All bcuz who she chose isn't who she was able to transform into changing last names. She leaps into arms of profiles that act as the same ol same of never after. As bitter she drifts into a world of separations where it's just her. Caught up by her own desires wanting more than a lame to lay her the fuck down. Oh the passion of the act that provokes true intent. Connecting on another level of freeing self so depths can vent. It's a sexual intimacy that triggers the vibe. As down goes another heartache that's written as cry. She's a pawn of her own kink that drives hormones into the night. Past the limit of luv'rs that consistently fade by days light. N she cannot figure out the reason of why she falls so hard. As it's in the way characters play the part...