the end of the road

The end of the road is not a pleasant place for those who crave challenge. To never be more certain of how you've felt and end up totally wrong can be discouraging. The one beautiful outcome of this failed endeavour regarding love was learning that I had the capacity to feel it.

P.S. he felt like home

all is fair

All is fair

in love and war,

that's what I've heard them say

before.

Without a care

she left the shore,

for hands she trusted and

adored.

A tiny snare

and now you're torn,

you really needn't stay for

more.

*broken ardent*

p.s. where's my life jacket again?

hefeweizen

a citrus slice bouyant in our brew;
our words loose,
our glances few.

yet here we are again you know;
i missed you so,
my gentle foe.

i wonder where we'll find our end
if once again
we break to bend.

*ardent*

p.s. honesty is like exhaling

introduction

Quick intro. ...

An old friend set up this acct for me to let people see my work, which has never earned a label other than "dark" or "interesting". The words my mind couple lay behind quiet lips; they stumble onto bar napkins and deny edit. To their refuge I've maintained a certain attachment; a fascination with their conditional intent, their sting, their quiet command in unbridled assembly. The only requirement I have of myself regarding this blogging endeavor is the absolute avoidance of, at all costs, the delete button.

Until next time folks,

Ardent

P.S. (post scriptum) is the dessert. There's always room for sweet afterthoughts