A Corroborative Lipstick

Marriages and how I implode when the antipathy it assaults me with is venomous. Hell, how old and bad habits die hard. Grey habits with a habitat that is downright dangerous and should go up in flames. Only a dolt with candy floss in his inner circle will be sucking up to those fairies and the second hand lies they go around littering and pick up the mushy teddy bears with 'I am all happy and distilled' popping out of their chests. Mending is not what a prince does in Sleeping Beauty or what the house of Hansel and Gretel which is plastered with confectionery, candies and cake is. You cannot just mend things like that especially when they are broken. Broken is broken and when you are desperate to mend the broken you break the broken into dandelions that lose their cause in the quest of getting back to where they were. Hiring adjustments and designating them to work on assignments that are baseless claims of some forced agreement is insanely patronizing the supermassive black holes in galaxies with malignant tumors. Look I count on love, I do. I just have never liked conditions. There is no pressure to be perfect but when faking love is in the preliminary stage, the relationship has to be smashed to smithereens by an orchestra of separation.

©songbriti

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