Would it be accurate to say that it is simply pitiful how you’ve just needed to keep in touch with one love, one passion, one habit, one book, one cup of coffee, one lyric around one individual and each time the words clean up in your mouth like destruction from a submerged ship on an abandoned island, you bite them gradually and swallow them back?

On most evenings, you will give the agony a chance to die down. It is that one more wave. In any case, on a few evenings, since there will be full moon evenings, the waves will be more vicious and will inch nearer to bursting out of you, attempt to rupture the hindrances of your teeth.

Also, they will ask you what you were doing at the shoreline at 2 am toward the beginning of the day when it wasn’t safe to be out there. You will disclose to them that you are the shoreline. You are at war with the ocean until the point that it routs you. Until the point that you are submerged in it.

Since on the off chance that you compose your calm and words, you won’t spell out on anything any longer.

 

Excerpts from one love triggers.

The Odessey

Pot-boiling love story.

 

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