𝔄 𝔡𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔱𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔠𝔢𝔞𝔫,
𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔨𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔰𝔞𝔩𝔳𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫.
𝔄𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔶 𝔨𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔟𝔶𝔢,
𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔴𝔰 𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔟𝔶,
ℑ𝔱 𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱,
𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔢𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔪 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫.
𝔏𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢𝔰 𝔟𝔢,
𝔚𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔰𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰 𝔫𝔬𝔯 𝔰𝔥𝔦𝔢𝔩𝔡𝔰.
ℑ𝔱’𝔰 𝔠𝔞𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔲𝔭 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔪 𝔞𝔫𝔡
𝔗𝔥𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔭𝔰 𝔦𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶.
𝔏𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔰,
𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔯𝔢𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔢𝔫 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱.
𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔞𝔳𝔶, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪
𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔱𝔴𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔞𝔴𝔫
𝔉𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔫 𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰
𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱
𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢𝔡
𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔬𝔣 𝔡𝔞𝔴𝔫.
ℑ𝔱 𝔣𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔩𝔶 𝔡𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔱 𝔦𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔞𝔶.
𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔰𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔡𝔩𝔶 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰,
“ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔢”
𝔄𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔱 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯,
𝔏𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔩𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔰 𝔬𝔲𝔱.
ℑ𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔪,
𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔫 𝔡𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔰
𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔨𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔡𝔯𝔶 𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔡 𝔩𝔦𝔭𝔰.
𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖗𝖎𝖋𝖙𝖜𝖔𝖔𝖉, 𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖎𝖙 𝖇𝖊 𝖒𝖊
𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒 𝖘𝖍𝖆𝖑𝖑 𝖇𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖊,
𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖔𝖈𝖊𝖆𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎𝖘 𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊,
𝖔𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖆𝖉 𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊.
𝕴’𝖑𝖑 𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖘 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖓 𝖒𝖞 𝖊𝖆𝖗,
𝕱𝖔𝖗 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖑𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖓𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖕𝖘 𝖘𝖙𝖗𝖎𝖐𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖒𝖞 𝖜𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖊𝖓 𝖍𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖙.
𝕴 𝖜𝖆𝖓𝖙 𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖊𝖛𝖊𝖗 𝖌𝖊𝖙 𝖑𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖘 𝖘𝖙𝖔𝖗𝖒.
𝕿𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖑𝖔𝖓𝖌 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖇𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖘 𝖇𝖊,
𝕴𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖓𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖘 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖊.
When the love starts to fade...and begin to reminisce. As weak as that love feels, it's there, you just have to poke the fire and add some wood. Give it some lovin' and surely you'll find warmth.
I appreciate the read.
© 2 years ago, snoW
