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.

the cave-in started
with honesty,
a promise
an admiration of agency,
of power and pride.

it was felt for miles
yet went unnoticed
the surrounding area
laughing
"I don't understand,"
a birthday at the next table,
a crying child.

wine bled through the cracks in that cave
as the flow of native water
slowed to a trickle
and receded
to make way for
desperation
at least so it seemed.

weeds and smiles
withered and revealed
selfishness,
loathing,
pain and fear.

what appeared there
in the collapsing darkness
of the once rigid--
and now compromised--
shelter of those
warm catacombs
was,
in fact,

hatred

layers upon layers of sedimentary disgust
that rendered those systems
inhospitable
uninhabitable
anger
and wine
laughter

"I'm not coming back."

i am
settling
floating
suspended in the unsustainable
adrift in fire
and blood
missing parts
the predecessors,
victims,
of unholy theistic ritual

being whole
was a luxury
oneness
a virtue
taken for granted
in the box
we lived and grew
the comfort in the chill
of a fimiliar place,
communities
cracked apart and tossed
separated and forgotten
the box was gone
and elsewhere was hell

to be thrown to the lukewarm sea
facing the uncertain panic of
no more
in no time
we disappeared,
used and consumed
one more brief, familiar chill
stripped of the flesh,
i am

small

The problem you have is you've nothing to say.
These MFA promptings are good for a yawn..
So scribble some **** and then call it a day
Since most of your readers have long since moved on.

find me
withering,
grinning,
pretending.
ignoring that my world is ending.
sabotaging my sanity
rest assured there is no plan B.
i’m trying,
holding back the whining.
putting on my every day best
for that could be the very day i’m dying.

-m lang