We fundamentally shared a lot of philosophies on life. The zealous nature that conspired in our hearts aspired us only for greatness. To seek good in life, love the close people in our lives and spread the love around the world. We were going to do great things, her and I.
Then the shit storm hit the weather. The skies where dark, I recall. Life as I knew it was about to change. It was that cold July month. It literally fell hard on me like the tons of mammoth weight. It crushed me when we had to part ways.
Something entirely in its entirety changed in me. We could attribute it, to growing up and having failed hopes in the former younger self. The dream of love always conquers all was a sham. Reality hits us all one way or another. And, the once gallant desires get tarnished into dark dreadful dregs.
Life took a bleak hue since. She was my last shot on this thing people call love. That blow sealed the coffin and I buried that mess of a life. Red roses and all, splattered on that grave bed. With my grand self eulogising the occasion.
That’s how the lone wolf 🐺 was born. Ride solo, and be a power guy, not aspire for the power couple dream.