Those cursed with the soul of a nomad,  
Thrive on the adventure of each new road.  
Fearful of settling at a final destination,  
They steer clear of any stagnation.  
Avoidants are the type they tend to seek,
Hoping this path leads to the ultimate peak.

26th day of sobriety, of self-respect  
Detox can be spirit-breaking.  
It often feels like a slow death.  
The cravings pulse with each heartbeat,  
leaving you drained,  
urging you to reach out —  
perhaps by texting, sending an emoji,  
Or maybe just "liking" a post
Consumed by the need to stay attached to what is familiar.  

You dwell on old messages,  
waver between memories of sweetness and pain.  
But one day,  
You find the strength to release them.  
You erase the old threads,  
delete the contact,  
and reclaim yourself.  
You might still relapse  
until you learn to recognize the red flags  
and to stand tall in your conviction  
to avoid repeating the toxic cycle.

Which heartache is worse: failing in love or failing to love? Did you find peace by surrendering to fear - abandoning the spark of your dreams before they even had a chance to begin? Tell me, was it worth it?

Our guards keep out, the hurt and healing, 
When we meet, shrouded in protective walls. 
Each awaits the other to take the first step, 
Both carrying wounds and too afraid to fall.

A bouquet from a man of few poetic words,
Left me at a loss, struggling for words,
Amidst the sunflowers, bright and bold,
I found a key to his home, a chapter to unfold.

It was a symbol of trust, a door opened wide,
An invitation to enter, with nothing to hide,
No poem or love letter could ever convey
The depth of his feelings in such a meaningful way.

She leaned in and kissed him, driven by an irresistible impulse rather than a well-planned intention.
Like a gentle dare, inviting him to join her in a moonlit dance, offering a mysterious and alluring proposition.
Little did she know the long shadow this moment would cast, lingering throughout the rest of her seasons.
Caught between feelings of regret and joy, she often reflects on the lessons learned from that bittersweet passion.

As I was applying my lavender lotion tonight.  
My fingers noticed something that didn't seem right.  

The blue flowers of love are no longer in bloom.  
My body feels as bare as a tree in winter's gloom.  

My brief summer of passion is a shadow from the past.
Your lips and my body, forever continents apart.