You meet someone new. You go on a first date. The ambiance is to die for. The smells of cooked steak dances up your nostrils. Faces of strangers spark curiosity and excitement. That person you’re out with, let’s call them Hope, is the only person in your view. They banter with your emotions and tickle them until they become relevant. Hope smiles at your confidence, at your poise, at your control. Self-control starts to loosen at the seams when Hope kisses your frailty. You’re diving into arousing chaos. Any weaknesses put on a vigor coat. Your hair begins to drip keenness. Hope stimulates your fantasies and love will soon enough be your only sedative. Big exhale. You turn onto your side and Hope is gone. Hope left a robe of history on your bedroom floor. The bones start to crack as temporary happiness disenegrates. Shattered by a passerby. You drag broken passion up to the attic. Start to erase what could have been and gut them out of your memories. Back to the drawing board.