Muscle Memory

I enjoyed giving into my weakness; I needed to like I need to breath. Similarly I didn’t have to think about it, it was all muscle memory, an automatic pulse that keeps life going. I am still defining the moment in my head, it’s a bit dreamy, succulent, but unwise. I ought to be more careful; cause recycling through the unwanted emotional thug of war is not something we were meant to do. I need to hide away.