I’ve got nothing.
Nothing.
Energy high flying buzz off.
Don’t dare shake a stick at a creative wise-ass.
Believe it to be true, says so on my business card – “wise-ass”
There are times when the space between a fine line,
And a loose cannon are as simple as the abyss
That falls amidst a lover and a liar.
And who knows what’s what until it’s too late.
The heart has been cracked open oozing sap and a scent of sweetness;
For all the right reasons.
Regret?
Maybe.
Sometimes,
Maybe not.
Depends…really depends.
And than there’s that ghosting thing that people do.
You know, here one minute all hyped up and interested and the next without warning
Gone, puff of smoke, no lingering, just a few what the fucks and a nod.
Now I’m chalking it up to the “asshole syndrome”.
Times haven’t changed.
People’s natural aversion to honesty of the heart;
Like a tug of war; except there is no war
And the heart was never really a match anyway…yawn.
Drift off zoom…

©2019 TrilbyYates