my fingers fell into cinnamon buns.
the sticky, sweet icing coated my nails.
the residue - stubborn and unyielding -
but enticing to lick, making me sick.

then my lips flirted with sultry wine
that pulled me into its safe embrace,
letting me breathe a sigh of relief
as I stared into space, enamored.

The clay bird said to the caged bird, "There's this burning desire to fly and soar, but my clay heart chokes on the fear of finding my shattered pieces on the ground."

They are like puzzle pieces missing their link,
floating in affection, yet in doubt they sink.
A beautiful story, they're out of ink,
Always in proximity, but never in sync.

They are like the moon and the sun, so near yet so far,
As distant yet as bright as the morning star.
Their connection, a tantalizing cosmic tease,
A love that lingers on the edge of celestial seas.

They are rushing rivers yearning to converge,
parallel to divergent, a traveler and a mirage.
Like the ebb and flow of tides, they wax and wane,
In a dance of longing yet forever in refrain.

They're mountain peaks and the sky above,
Always in sight, yet unable to touch and love
They are like the morning dew and the rising sun,
One glistens briefly, while the other's journey has just begun.

The words dont come to me anymore like they used to.
They elude me.
Or maybe im the one eluding them.
Being evasive.
Hiding.

And what significance does this hold?
(none)

Things unraveling, with no reason.
Hurt people, Hurt people;
Should I let this heart atrophy?
Or let misanthropy and apathy consume it?
Any naive notion disabused
Like love
Advantage, to you
All used