Gift or garbage …
I don’t know if you are a gift to me. I don’t believe in meeting by mistake … There might be a possibility that God placed a button in front of me to see if I would press it. The conversations that we have are incredible, very personal. I appreciate the honesty of your life that you confide in me. Spontaneously … You guide my emotions in to an attachment spin. Many lessons I’ve learned … Don’t make the same mistakes twice. Am I learning ? I don’t know … The smell that has gravitational pull has a scent of a rose …powdery and silk… Deep color of intutition smells like rain. Or… Is it the scent of stale piss that seeps a sneaky breeze towards me when I walk down a dark street deep in my own thoughts ? Garbage that has rot and crooked growth… That has set in its own ravages for too long ?
