Pity boils in anger. In hot oil it boils and as time goes
on, becomes sympathy. Sympathy is the sickness of empathy and is not a friend I could stand. Empathy is treasured by love and love is all I need. It makes breathing much more easier. It untethers my heart from the numb feelings it goes through. It pours love into me and untethers my emotions to be released.
YOU ARE READING
For the Love of Tulips and Stars
PoetryWe all feel the loss of something that is a close part of ourselves.
