I am desperately trying to fall out of love. Pulling away from it, bit by bit. My loyalty and steadfastness are proving to be a problem. Love clings to me like one of those bugs with hooked, sharp feet. when I try to pull it off, it clings and pulls at my surfaces the way those bugs pull on my shirts.
For me, trying means I need new friends, more friends. People who want to go to poetry readings, people who like to draw, people who want to go for a run or read in the sunshine.
I’m on a roll, come be my friend.