Obstacles of the easily touched,
the hopeless romantics.
Amazed to find it and
exactly as I had imagined.
A cascade of happy beats, intensity
that my romantic soul devoured.
The cynical me, silenced by the moment.
But soon, how to sustain the ride?
how to keep afloat?
Fluctuating between happy beats and ache.
It grows and churns and reigns supreme….
The wrong sort of dreamer.