She’s sitting on the precipice Of everything She never allowed Everything she could still be. Perfectly pulchritudinous In who she already is. She likens staying to being An ascetic And, in her resolve to leave She rolls her reluctant tears into a tissue Folding them away, Filling the cup’s inevitable emptiness. The keeper Of tears.
I’ll tell you a little known secret and perhaps save you some disappointment: the idea that psychology can cure the pains of the human heart is mythical. For this reason I envy the achievements of modern medicine. Through good science and thorough practice it has managed to successfully cure many of the physical ills we face. It conquered Smallpox, combated […]