I immerse myself in a romance w/success.
It knows no bounds in its intimacy.
I'm only limited by my own acts.
The lie of wanting anything escapes me.
We have a difficult relationship.
A love hate of sorts.
The roses I throw at success are self-serving indeed.
Making my advances feel amazing.
Our romance allows me to feel alive.
I exude my love for success daily.
It's within my smile, my walk, and my tone of voice.
It bleeds from my veins when I'm caught climbing over the barbed wire fences of struggle between us.
My life's purpose has told a story of nothing else.
The inevitability of our legendary affair.
Oh the times we've shared.
Success, mmm.
She is my trophy wife.
But alas, at the end of our rocky road, am I truly fulfilled...?
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