The constant reminder that our loved ones are gone.
Visiting their graves and placing flowers you bought on Amazon.
Realizing past problems that people never put their focus on.
It’s just an excuse to remember someone that has been withdrawn.

A physical phenomenon that keeps opening past wounds.
Feelings that people try to keep in, but still get loose.
Its repetitive and sad to tell you the truth.
Will it ever go away?

Ding, ding, ding. The alarm in my head rings.
Caution ahead. Dangerous feelings.
Prepare to get hit by sadness and other emotions.
It will end soon. Your mind is in the process of erosion.

A woeful fate with a caustic tone.
The mortality paradox without a doubt, well-known.
The charming idiosyncrasy of our loved ones,
Carved nicely in their granite gravestones.

The focus of death at all, ruins the day.
Exacerbating the situation, digging a grave.
Warning signs popping up like ads. Stop. Stop. Stop!
Just please stop and go away! Everything is better without it, okay!

When a man loves his wife he loves himself
I have heard it said
and I’ve read
of the interplay
of self love and love of another.
Can I love my brother, cherish my mother
if I do not accept myself?  
I’m still unclear which comes first or if this dilemma
circles and confounds
and will puzzle me forever.  

But I know with sureness when I love you
you soften and look at me with those big brown eyes
and sometimes I think I detect mist there
and when I run my fingers through your hair
I know your complexity and gentleness.
When I embrace you I know the fullness of your heart
that you loved me from the start
but even more now my precious one.

Maybe being a man this paradox of the circle of love
will never be mentally clear
but in my heart I know, my dear,
my love for you makes me me.

Is it a new beginning
Or an old end?

Is it goodbye to a true enemy
Or hello to a fake friend?

Imprisoned, but...

Is is you
Or me behind the bars?

Are we keeping you out
Or keeping me in from where you are?

Appetiser
-
A fresh, hot glance in the mirror

To start
-
A lingering feeling of fat-shame served on a bed of between-wash hair with a  dash of blemishes

Main
-
An overture of ovulating positivity, a feeling of unfiltered joy and self-love.
Braisen confidence with likeability

Amuse bouche
-
Insufferable indecision

Dessert
-
A sharp (too sharp) sting of sarcasm washed down with a sweet apology chaser.

To turn jealousy to lost illusion,
and make love acceptable confusion.
This is the aim of trusted devotion—
love completely in spite of emotion.

To stay warm in the shiver of despair,
and to boldly love without fear of fear.
This is a healthy heart’s true sensation—
love love when loving feels like damnation.

To find comfort in intense affliction,
and then love with both doubt and conviction.
This is the comfort of a heart that’s sure—
loving an imperfect love that is pure.

To embrace the unknown and understand,
and find in small things a love to expand.
These are ways love’s paradoxes grow—
love is loving what love can never know.

Isn't it amazing that when we are unhappy,
we own our pain and misfortunes solemnly to ourselves,
but when we have the much-expected encounter with happiness,
Never ours to possess
it comes from the arduous effort,
that without appeal is given from our family and friends.
How delightful!