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All the heightened minutes
Trying to keep pace
With parallel boredom
And overfilled space
Every touch is counted
Each whisper as well
The overall auras
Like secrets we tell
It's an intrigue of such
Known only to one
Tucked in so uniquely
With webs that we spun
From amateur housing
To seasoned decay
Time's ever-dividing
Day into a day.
In love's tapestry, a tale unfolds,
Where Cupid, the archer, his story molds.
A fateful day, his aim went astray,
The wrong arrow struck, leading hearts astray.


A quiver full of arrows, each with a role,
One for passion, the other for the soul.
But Cupid, in haste, confused his art,
Shot the wrong arrow, tearing love apart.


In the labyrinth of emotions, I found my way,
Entangled in love's web, where shadows play.
The arrow meant for joy pierced my heart,
Yet sorrow's seed grew, tearing love apart.


A tragic chapter, my love story unfolds,
As pain and heartache, in its pages, molds.
Cupid's error, a twist in the plot,
A love story woven, then tangled in a knot.


People say it's a folklore, a tale to be told,
Of love's missteps, where hearts grow cold.
A saga of pain, with a sad, bitter end,
Yet in its telling, generations transcend.


For love's not always a tale of delight,
Sometimes it's pain that colors the night.
A twisted arrow, a love story's bend,
A folklore passed on, from friend to friend.


So, in the echoes of the cupid's wrong aim,
A love story born from sorrow and pain.
A folklore woven in the fabric of time,
A cautionary tale of love's subtle rhyme.
how the cupid used the wrong arrow on me, my love story is full of pain who has a sad end
In the intricate tapestry of love,
the adage "once a cheater, always a cheater"
weaves a cautionary thread.


It is a phrase laden with the weight of experience,
a mantra that whispers of broken trust and shattered vows.


When someone treads the path of betrayal,
leaving the fragments of a once-whole heart in their wake,
the scars run deep.


The echoes of deceit reverberate
in the corridors of love,
leaving those who have been wounded hesitant to trust again.


The notion, "once a cheater, always a cheater," emerges as a defense mechanism,
a shield against the vulnerability of being deceived once more.


Yet, in the realm of love,
the narrative isn't always so black and white.
People evolve, learn from their mistakes, and yearn for redemption.


It's crucial to acknowledge the capacity for change
within each individual.
While the wounds of betrayal may linger,
they need not dictate the course of someone's entire romantic journey.


The human experience is multifaceted, and relationships are complex landscapes.


People stumble, fall, and sometimes, they rise anew, reshaped by the crucible of their own errors.


Love, at its essence, encompasses forgiveness, growth, and the possibility of second chances.


So, while the cautionary phrase carries the weight of wisdom,
it is equally important to recognize the potential for transformation.


People can break free from the chains of their past misdeeds,
learn to value trust, and construct relationships founded on honesty and integrity.


Love, after all, is as much about healing as it is about the initial spark.


In the end the tale of "once a cheater, always a cheater"
is not a universal truth
but rather a reminder that love demands conscientious navigation.


It prompts us to approach relationships with discernment,
to treasure the fragility of trust,
and to foster an environment where growth and change are not only possible but celebrated.
In the quiet whispers of my heart's soft plea,
"I loved you," a tender refrain set free.
Yet, amid the verses of our love's sweet song,
Your affections danced with another, strong.

A delicate waltz, emotions entwined,
In prose, our story, intricate, defined.
A bittersweet tale on life's tender stage,
Where love, a script, turned a poignant page.

In the garden of feelings, diverse and vast,
My love lingered in shadows, a love miscast.
While your heart found solace in her embrace,
A poetic prose unfolded, a delicate grace.

Through the echoes of joy and heartache's art,
A symphony of emotions played its part.
In love's prose, we wove a tale untold,
A dance of hearts, a story to behold.
just because
i like winter
it doesn't mean
i like people with cold hearts
Your children how to cook,
First teach them,
How to shop for the right
ingredients,
And the best and cheaper places to get them.
1/12/2023
Is there room
in your ignorance
for truth to creep in

Are the doors
closed and locked
from inside and within

Will the light
truly gifted
pass over and by

Is your meadow
a wasteland
—and haven for lies

(Dreamsleep: November, 2023)
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