Perhaps my vision it not my own.
I have spent my time now reevaluating. I am trying to discover what it is I really need to know. All the ideals of my family, of my culture, they are yet fickle, no matter how many variations I find. That of a lover points me in one direction, while the ideals of my heart flicker in and out, as a dying candle. The path I follow bends and twists and leaves me with yet more questions.
The kiss you anchor me down with is beginning to weaken.