Trips down memory lane.
He walks hand in hand with the shadows of his past.
The shadows turn to monsters,
Smiling wickedly with their long, sketched fingers stretching for his soul.
Tearing him down,
Ripping him from his world that was, a moment ago, so free of pain.
A flame in the darkness keeps him company.
Inhale.
Packs of nicotine to create static in his brain.
One thing to truly **** all of his pain,
A woman.
She murmurs nothing but love,
only craving a happy future for him.
His trips down Memory Lane slowly faded with the dawn of the coming day,
She was successful in her struggle against his demons.

Love can be one of two things:
It can be a sleeping dog or a wild cat.
It can be light and flourishing,
A dream filled with sunflower fields and butterflies.
It can be a thunderstorm of emotions,
with nothing except the minor thought of it’s next nap to ease the pain.
In the end, love still craves for loyalty and trust.
It craves for it the way that all animals crave their next meal.