Warmth is the absence of attraction

I used to believe in "the one." Many years ago. Before the world stole my innoncence and exhausted my spark. In that time, I built. One after the other, I stacked brick and mortar to cage the frayed edges of my heart. I discovered myself, reveled in the selfish ways of singularity, and in my singleness I died. Slowly at first, but greater each day.

It was a good death, and I cannot think to revive myself.