Me You Sun: (Sol) Searching

Harsh, her words were, as winter, battling against the breeze

of soothing spring, the second heart of mine, it awakens.

There is a man, a miserable pile of feelings,

thoughts, and longingness, battling between

these two hearts, when one has weakened,

to a state beyond repair, and that which is

tied by a false sense of responsibility.

"Come on," I say to thee. "Come one and all.

For we who have survived Ragnarok."

Bless femininity, and let capriciousness ebb

and flow. I, myself, will survive once again, not for

a future with her, or for any other similar notion, but a thought that

I, as a man, will be, for the sake of being.