Once love existed in spaces between disagreements, strong enough to balance the challenges we faced when we momentarily turned our backs on one another.
Now disdain excretions seep into the places where loves desire ruins lives in a literal blink of unknowing eyes, an imaginary lie, secret perceptions or perceived deceit can defeat rational combat.
In an instant you’re face to face with the trust you placed in the hands of your love killer.
Killer, lover, killing love.
It’s not a thin line between love and hate its just the lines are drawn in the sand castle fragile minds of the fraility of loves misconceptions.
You can teach not what you’ve never been taught but have separately sought, mentally lost, we are paying the cost, caught between a rock and fearing loss.
Now there’s no longer a wide divide between murder suicide and where love was once thought to reside.
Dreamcatchers emotionally detached nightmares acting civilly publicly but their privacy is
attached to uncivilized offerings while spring boarding off our loved ones coffins. Too often.
Iya Isoke © 4/1/2013