14th's Love...

If I had remembered,

    The expression of a broken half hinged on healing heart's wish was poetry... Maybe the silence expounding as uncommitted failure of intelligence... or stupidity of a fiend shining in the cosmetic dark as a mechanism of goodness resonating in attempts to control the impact of wounds via calligraphy in fearless articulation, Morbidly healing as an unsolicited and abandoned forgery of a heart's crashed derelict convicted hope inhabiting the silent depths of... Hopefully we won't have to wait too romantically long to find out.

      Because the drunk called love is just waiting, ere so closely to stumble, Seemingly aimless, Through our heart's conversationally irrational in that very moment's version of events front uninhabited by security nodding their consent door. So smile, It's coming, Despite the irrevocable story given via a manipulative rental monetary profit expenditure tarot oracle card manipulating reader telling you it's a long road off... She's lying. Smile. Love's a coming.

In lieu of our participation in,
Becoming too comfortable with our lovers...
Subsequently... Farting.