Dearest Disease,
Foresight failed me when i pursued you rigorously. You couldn't be trusted at the front lines of my daily war, a man who can't move mountains is mostly just a perpetuating eyesore. And yet it was your manliness that first intrigued me, a place in maturity you were at and i presumably could not be. I was myself to the extreme: witty, blunt and mean. You cradled this mess in the palm of your hand and fed my ego until my fluttering heart could land. So here I drift, in the desert of your emotions, a land full of fickleness and false fancy notions.
Smothering kisses.
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