It's been said that time heals all wounds and bridges all the emptiness between blood and its source. Time also can wrest apart the fabric of humanity, weakened by a single thread caught hanging from an old stitch, begging to be pulled, rather than cut.
This slow passing allows infection the uncertainty of its death, enabling the pain the hate the ignorance of a careless experience to fester the soul with the recollection of regret.
The heart, if ignored, will reveal a glamorous rendering of extravagant curiosity; So wither and fade unannounced with the grimace of a disappointing carnival ride...loud with the cold sounds of metal supporting a structure not worth its reputation.