For all the ways I’m asked to be intelligent, I am truly a simple man. I fumble through the dark. Through the thought of a love without heartbreak. Why can’t— why won’t I accept an unbroken love, that simply dimmed instead of shattered?
For all my wits, it’ll be a dim light that does me in. A romantic til the end, no bull. Truly hopeless and noble, chasing loves; chasing shadows and flashes, like a lightning-bug. A rosy disposition, masked by a somber sheen, residue of a life. Flickering bright between breathes and heartbeats.
A jar less man holding light. Simply loving, for his own delight.