Rush rush rush.
No one breaths or eats, just runs and rushes.

Sit, quiet, breath, rest, listen.
But instead you run, loud, choke, wrestle, and scream.

I saw a man today, dressed just right. Truly handsome. He walked in and caught my eye. I spent the better part of the night making up his story. He would be talented but humble. And strong but soft spoken. And heart warming, but have wit with a bite. He would love you and love his mother, too.

And the night wore on, and we caught eyes across the room and across the table and shared the same ground. And finally, we met. The moment rushed, I would meet him and he would remind me of new ways to be alive.

He opened his mouth and all hope was lost. Too high, and too sickly smooth. His name is Alex and he is playing the same games that all sweet talking men do. He was not a man, he was drunk on two glasses of champagne and called me sexy within two minutes of conversation. It is tragedy when we do not have men, honorable men.