As we move forward in a direction, a few with differences.
Sometimes unnoticed, sometimes unfelt, sometimes cleverly contrived.
I need to turn that brief sigh into an ungoverned need.
If the direction lacks enough air, there maybe love, the maybe differences, there might not be straight lines but curves!
Curves that are easier to deal. Easy to heal.
A soother turn and no need for hearts to face fearful dangers.
Our feelings are the prisoners of our body, resting within its cage, hidden from the sight.
Be that as it may be those that dare.
Many are distracted from the righteous curve until they fall blindly.
Love, allowing the paths align the damage that is already done and felt.
“It comes unnoticed until we collide.”