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3d
A thought worth believing in: that all of creation is alike — made
of the same breath and dust — though many still pretend we are
not the same. I see it in the quiet places, the soft golden glow people
follow like it’s salvation. My eyes, like old cracks in a hallway, have
watched footsteps ascend toward that light — sometimes blindly,
sometimes beautifully. I  remember goosebumps rising when I once
felt the shape of love not through words, but through Braille
fingertips — a language of touch, not talk.

Life is a beautiful kind of horror — man’s power to create always
shadowed by his capacity to destroy. And too often, women —
aching to be seen — to throw themselves into nets that were never
meant for them. But the fish that swims willingly into the trap is the
one that’s easiest to catch… and just as easily discarded. Know
your worth!
Don’t offer yourself as convenience. The one worth
having you, will search for you. He will wait. He will chase, not out
of ego, but because your absence will echo louder than any sea full
of options.


The kind of man who feels your loss as a hollow space is not the
one who tells you, “there’s plenty of fish in the sea.” He’s the one
who dives into THAT sea, because it’s you he’s trying to find.

But these days, wild tenacity has turned inward. People want love
just to say they have it — to wear it like a badge, a filter, an accessory.
They want the treat of love, not the truth of it. Just someone to
sweeten their image — arm candy for the soul’s sugar rush. But love
that’s only a treat will melt under heat. It won’t last past the craving.
It won’t survive the unsweet moments.

And beneath love’s gloss, beneath its shining underside, lies
something raw, something more — not always pretty, but worth it.
A love that doesn’t just sparkle on the surface, but endures the
sanding, the softening, the polishing. The kind that shines brighter
after it’s been tested — not replaced at the first crack.

This love isn’t a free trial. It isn’t a game or a placeholder. It is sacred.
It is earned. And it demands your best — not just your best look.
Because not everyone is ready for the Premium type.
Odd Odyssey Poet
Written by
Odd Odyssey Poet  26/M/Zimbabwe
(26/M/Zimbabwe)   
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