The desolate roar of the wind

Blah
I want to write. I haven't in ages.

I see my face slip from the top 10. Your order making a miss of the time we spent. Your innocent face reflects images of our past. The memories I treasure close still edging away to the surface. Resulting in tears with no sound I cant stop the thought that it could still be. The thought that it wasn’t ever that bad. I am kept back by these thoughts and wish I wasn’t sometimes. I am in that new place still though the dust is fast settling. I am uncomfortable with the use of single gay male though I fear this will never change. Moments of passion tide the sea as the desolate winds roar. I am at sea. Flickering a torch within the mist to find land. I need to settle for a rest, to move on with the world and not be at sea. I lack certainty within this boat. The desolate roar of the wind makes my boat unstable.