the heart is a lonely hunter with only one desire
to find some lasting comfort in the arms of another’s fire
driven by a desperate hunger to the arms of a neon light
the heart is a lonely hunter when there’s no sign of love in sight
“and the past held only this wisdom: that love was a damaing mistake, and it’s accomplice, hope, a treacherous illusion.”
—Khaled Hosseini, A Thousand Splendid Suns


