I just want to keep you safe

kiss your furrowed brow

until it's smooth as silk

I know it will kill you to leave

but it's murder

making me watch her destroy you

run away with me

or run away from me

either way get far away from here

all I want is for you to be happy

to forget your past

for your present not to resemble it

let me fix this

I will give it all up

I will destroy myself to save you

run away run away run away

or walk away

I doubt she will chase you

I will not let you accept this fate

if you don't leave now you never will

don't deny that

if you leave now you leave them

but your self sacrifice will get them nowhere

being witness to their brother's destruction will do them no good

let me save you

run away to me

Is the only thing I cannot have. Everything else is available to me through words. If I want something, I give the same desire to a character and have them devise a way of obtaining it for themselves, though they don't always succeed. However, it seems as though no matter how much we gain, there's always something else we could have that would make our lives even better; what we are really pursuing is a perfect life. Unfortunately, this is impossible to find. It is a fool's errand to strive for it; the wise thing is to make the most of what we have and pursue our passions, surrounding ourselves with people we love. Though our lives won't be perfect, they will be full of purpose and meaning, and in this broken world, that is the best we can hope for.

I could reach out, right now--

Dig my hands into the earthy cliff.

Ford the river. Take the leap.

I could just... Say goodbye to fear.

I could reach out, right now--

But my dreams stay a clumsy wish.

The seeds I've sown too far to reap,

I feel like I'm chained here.

That smile.

Your every word.

To look inside your mind,

Find you pain, your sadness

To heal.

That laugh.

The sound of joy,

Ocean waves rushing to

The shore.

Happy again. Reunited.

You.

Some constant, arrogant notion brought around to the forefront of my every waking hour, shall I ever know less, my own undoing to be so foolishly, cavalierly, eloquently intrepid. Were lessons not learned accompanied by burns and torn sleeves or dizzied, labored heaves? Have no warnings been offered by the glimmer and glow of heat, no precedent taught by Darwinian law?

What insidious thoughts leave my lorn love bereft of reason and my heavy heart harried with tenuous purpose. To have fallen again, and again, and each time left unsettled and vowing 'never again.'

How many times it could take to eventually leave that vow unbroken, filled so with aching regretful sorrow or pining, irreversible rage that love no longer fits. Love, with it's near ethereal, twisting, liquor scent, philanthropic nature to wind itself so easily and gracefully into your every cranny; nooks becoming chasms in which to hold fathomless depths of emotion and attachment. Love, so tender, as to kindle and spark the flames of passion and liberation of self. Love, an innate and inescapable addiction, the reason for reason and the truth behind truth. Love, the constant, unavoidable lift from which there can only be a fall.

I try so hard to be at peace with the world, alas, it is a fruitless endeavour owing to the constant bombardment of bad news that assails me from all quarters.

From my phone and the news, and the papers that I choose, I am fated to recluse, and to sink into the blues. What will become of us all?