I was hiding seek in a closet. Saying screw it, with a beautiful boy, suited to be a mute. We lazily past nights hidden, often naked. We won, but weren’t rewarded, we were too well hid. I said, I’d cut my leg through, if he needed food. He never got that hungry, but he still believed me. Now, I know I wouldn’t have, it’s the way I am. He was the best in the crowd I’ve met until now, but not to be mistaken, I’ve grown to hate him. Love is knowing beautiful women look awful naked. Love is knowing not to say love is. Love is love is love. I’ll push anyone I’ve seen to much of. I’m sorry, but above all else, I’ve got honesty. He was right when he said it fails me.