I did not prepare space for this much happiness.
My writing has suffered.
Where do I go from here?
With sadness and suffering
I built theatres of despair with words
Found calmness in the thing between whiskey and sex
sang songs to the void, where shadows wondered.
nursed wounds as wide as a fake smile
with bandages of God and fulfilling romance
Both of which were never real.
©prince_sbu
P