the Purgatory of a Broken Heart

Fall into the abysmal depths

I love the cutesie ish, up to a point. —>

Once I’m past that point, I’m as cynical as it gets.

A shade nocturnal in the midnight court.

Obsidian chains making sinister music as the procession approaches from the rear.

After issuing countless condemnations, she grows bored.

Finally, her eyes gently close as she drifts into picturesque reverie.

Self-coherence does not chase recognition.

It breeds boundaries that are assertive, without being hostile.

Differentiating between autonomy and aggression.

It holds. Quietly.