Jay

Original Text: Jay

Passionate traces of hate are as inescapable mental conquerors filled with make believe moments capable of engulfing us like a vast gush of fiery fury.
Am I correct to assume that by our self inflicting wounds our days and nights are alike and we are pursued by extreme restless moments…to say the least? And should I concur that because there’s been so much unrest and hurt between us that we have ruined any possibility of weaving our love to an adoring perfect ending?
My honest desire is that we would end this bargaining away of our love for the foolish sake of pride and in place of nurturing these unceasing careless mistakes of hopeless times we would set the center point of our life with less “who’s at fault” moments and more love alluring and upright unshakable days.

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Revised Text:

Traces of passionate hate are like inescapable mental conquerors, filling us with make believe moments capable of engulfing us in a vast gush of fiery fury.

Am I correct to assume, that from our self inflicted wounds, our days and nights are alike and that we are pursued by extreme restless moments…to say the least?

And should I concur that, because there’s been so much unrest and hurt between us, we have ruined any possibility of weaving our love into an adoring perfect ending?

My honest desire is that we will end this bargaining away of our love for the foolish sake of pride, and in place of nurturing these unceasing careless mistakes of hopeless times, we would fill the center point of our lives with fewer “who’s at fault” moments and more loving days.

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