I should think you’re wonderful.776Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡcxc4swk70j

The experience of you

is probably more than enough to create oases in desserts.

I don’t think you’re wonderful.

The mirage I swear that we own

is not easy to classify.

Nothing as splendid as Splenda 

and I feel it is best I stay and never know at least cane sugar.

It is still, sweet.

I can be satisfied with that right?

I am lying, but I need to stay.

What if salt looks me in the face

like it was once brown but now bleached and ready for me?

Sure, passion is a fire that will caramelize sugar for richer taste.

Yes, passion is a fire that turns salt to clear liquid, melting lead.

My skin is softer.

Than lead.

 I will be, at the very least, scarred.

 

My feelings are quite shallow; I don’t wish to hurt you.

That makes me a decent human being and not any sort of lover.

I cannot call you a friend though I want to.

I do not wish to call you significant though you should be.

I can say that there is no animosity because there isn’t.

I can say there is only amiability because it is just that.

I sometimes feel I’d rather salt could lick my wounds over and over again

than to live in our so-called whatever.

But here I am, fostering an indescribable lie.

Far too bored to be descriptive.

Especially because if I open my mouth,

safety is gone.

That’s it.

You are safe.

You are here. 

You'll always be.

I need not fear any change and therefore I can get comfortable.

I will not deny the laziness that comes with that realization.

Safety is with silence.

It is lost with speech.