137: Love is a fool. A blind fool. You can’t see what they see. You’re wide awake thinking it through until a subfocus gets lost. You can’t see you grow accustomed, so to speak, directly oblique : but pointedly no name escalated or united w/ the width of what beauty is! And where it lies!
Bon équilibre, someone else won’t choke (and in a non asphyxiating language at that), one a 2nd person, your “someone else,” comprehends. What do you say? Why of falsehood, tell me, speak to the wide world where all are over-partial to judgment. Why should my heart do anything?

Yet I give up weak words thinking they seem right, hack at reasons to try more with the grit of fairer and fouler understatement, neither the worst or best.

And you know, that’s what’s wrong then. Over-partial you and I can’t see what the world sees..