isnt it sweet? how much the human heart is able to bare, the lines between support and manipulations that past-lovers have drawn for you, isnt it sweet? how much you will carry for the people who arent quite yet past-lovers, how you will draw boundaries and cross lines just to touch, just to feel, just to create some sort of tangible memory for when you sit with only their names left in your mouth, isnt the line between sweet and naive based on experience? isnt it naive? how far you will go to love people into boxes, how you will let yourself fall apart and you will watch them spit you out onto the floor and still you have so much faith in every single rushed kiss and almost-memory that one of these people you let touch you with the lights off, one of these people you will drink into your poetry will be more than just a past-lover?