We only see what we want to see.
We only hear what we want to hear.
We only do what we want to do.
Why?

If I see it
then it is

If I hear it
then it is

If I taste it
then it is

If I read it
then it's
a different
story

Love is mud
Though it starts unbaked
Soft
Through the burning of the sun
The passing of the days
It hardens and forms a structure that stands
The test of time
Handled with patience and care
Even the ***** and unformed
Can become something beautiful

she is a wandering wayfarer
running through life
falling every once in a while
along deep and shallow paths
a serene sight, a rigid ride
passing by other wayfarers too
searching for what's been lost
endlessly trudging towards that final
destination
the wind keeps telling her to stop
with tears that have dried long ago
cracks on her skin
mud creeping on her soles
yet she keeps striving
for that certain tomorrow
finding herself in another corner
of the world
she picks herself up,
and runs once more.