It's just a heart attack

I'm not sure why I thought that this time around you would open your door and give me any inclination as to what the key even looked like. Your post-modern stance on needs and wants and my fruiting enlightenment that mimicked your past choices were just symmetrical standards that are based on fractals. I shared the most detailed importance into how and why and when and who, all of the parts that make up the whole. As soon as my belly hairs were shown, my compromised eyes that stare like my grandmothers scared you. I do understand this time. My failure to filter will not happen again, my trust will not be placed on its back to be burned in indecision. My silence will never save me.