Depression tastes like wine left out in the open.
Frustration is like drowning in your blood, sweat and tears, on land.
Grief is all the almosts, could haves and should haves you cradle.
Anger is more like a storm; always leaves you wondering if its all necessary.
Happiness is said to be a baby’s laugh but I think it’s sitting in the afternoon sun and not asking why.
Loss is inevitable, almost anticipated, but still shocking.
Loneliness is comfortable. It makes you go to parties and find a solitary corner in the backyard. Its a darkness your eyes know.
Lust and rust are the same, it corrodes the soul.
Love is why we hurt. And hate with a passion that can burn the world and freeze the oceans.