Thought #1

Like one cold night of bad winter, in well situated milieu. Brushing your skin, the crisp wind, with every point on its surface killing you softly. I never knew else, a better sphere. See for some people broken is the established state. See that maybe it's not that I'm not sad; maybe I just never been happy.

Of Love and Happiness

I used to think love and happiness append. That both moves in accordance, a faultless conjecture. Presumption, speculation. I thought I know a broken heart, but knowing isn't feeling; one none of those lavish poet ever came close in describing. Like a problematic anecdote, it expounds and presents. It becomes who you are; suddenly it's the most compelling slice of your life on display.