Why are we hard-wired to love the hard?
We mend ourselves to shield from the pain,
Only to jump back into the arms of another "too tight" hug.
We break our backs for the people who don't want us,
Who don't need us,
Who don't love us.
We fall from great heights to trust the drop of water below,
To expect an ocean of greatness,
Of stability.
We end up face first onto the pavement,
Splattered about but still alive.
Alive but dying,
Dying yet alive.
Our brokenness becomes us,
Defining the very feature of what love may or may not be,
According to the bad we suffered before.
We outline our other half into the expectations of what we have experienced.
Is it unjust?
Is this what pulls our hearts into the directions we want it to?
If our love becomes boring,
Does it mean we are content?
Or are we upset that we aren't strung out like a ******,
Addicted to the toxicity like a needle setting fire to someone's veins,
Boring because we found peace among the calamity and we are too young to be just that,
Content.

knowing a place
tastes like vibrato on my teeth
the cafe au chocolate tastes like milk today
eyes closed, I can guess it’s maker
sometimes i sit in my car
let the cold seep in
because it doesn’t matter where i am

what is the difference between content and malcontent

No doubt

That day
You will be happy
When less is more

And it will be
All around
Forever