Is not the most erotic part of the body wherever the clothing affords a glimpse?
There is no such thing as static happiness. Happiness is a mixed thing, a thing compounded of sacrifices, and losses, and betrayals.
To part is the lot of all mankind. The world is a scene of constant leave-taking, and the hands that grasp in cordial greeting today are doomed ere long to unite for the last time when the quivering lips pronounce the word ‘Farewell’.
They don’t tell you in school
how experience can teach you to heal
in all the wrong ways.
I sabotage myself so well,
bolt myself in
before others can open the doors.
My words are clumsy and awkward.
People regard me like a car accident;
they can’t look away
from something so tragic.
Sometimes I forget how to be human.
I hope on those days,
you’d be willing to wait for me