• novanogravity 23w

    Is it foolish to think that all
    love comes with a slow
    Diminishing of the self?
    Love surely was not meant to
    Be a prison for the heart
    With its bars made of code
    With its meals hardly nourishing
    With its words turning to be hollow
    Maybe the word, Love, itself
    conjures up a new form of matrix
    Try saying it fast
    Then saying it slow
    Then not saying it at all
    As you monitor the feelings