Romansick
6 films
You hike the trails, you chase the sound,
You dive where silent depths are found.
(And overtime with no one paid,
Fall hard for love that quickly fades.)
I dream of lands where horses run,
Of chopping wood beneath the sun.
(But diets fail, my wallet’s bare —
Still chasing clouds, not getting there.)
If wounds are life’s unspoken part,
Then let me bleed through books and art.
Romance — a sickness?
I’ll take the fall.
I want it all —
The high, the hurt,
The rise, the sprawl.
Curator
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