FOOL.S.GOLD
3.9.20
“I get the hard stuff, and someone else gets the fun stuff.”
If you only knew my body, you’d kick yourself for exalting demons you cannot slay.
Not that it matters. Red’s the whore’s color, and that sentence skinned me Rosemary West.
Still
I refuse to think of love as a form of self destruction, instead I choose to love parts of myself when they loose someone else. Right now, a portion of the world carries a broken heart, another is dreaming of being put together again. Me? I choose to beat for them all. To show that kindness and empathy don’t need an excuse to be exceedingly generous.
Deep down I know my past, in contrast to my present, is just as big a lie as it is the truth of parts no longer mine. There’s no such thing as a world too hard for softness.