when you're trapped in a moment of complete discomposure, but it's all been so beautifully unfolded; dragging you in with it's warm hands and smooth tones, no amount of guilt can stop you falling into the unseemly, dark hole. then, when you arise through the other side with not much memory of your sweet malversation the night before - that is when you relise that all you've acheived the last few months are unworthy compared to the scent thats been left on your clothes.
now, to throw it all away, and hope that you can acheive the luxury without the malfeasance would be such risky business, to keep it all impregnable would be far too boring but would no doubt kill the fragile efflorescence you've so lovingly picked and watered. although your sweet misconduct may well have only lasted as long as the alcohol did, the pit of your stomach wishes there was some kind of infinate allurement outside the "oh-so-awful" mistake you've made. now all that is left to do is destroy what you've created and hope that you've got enough charm and poise to win over the monster that sucked you into this in the first place.
No comments:
Post a Comment