I was free by a moment, but when I take a sip of your divine being I simply fall again, pulled by strong admiration I always have toward you.
Compatibility* flows like every drops of waterfall attracted by the force of gravity.
So powerful, yet smooth as silk and effortless that we both believed we’re meant to be soul mate even before our first get-together.
I can’t always express my feelings well, so on the assumption that you don’t know, you are so significantly exceptional for my uncanny taste of life and I am planning to treasure* you, my (no longer) imaginary friend.
And that’s a truth I spoke dearly.
*before you reader judge me further for being such a hopeless romantic, I’m not talking about my significant other (although yes, my love for him is still growing bigger than the universe)
**like other, and no other
If making all these oppressive vague noises is all we can do, we are doomed for erasing the good part of ourselves.
Pieces, by pieces, by pieces.
Missing the time to reconcile; for the things that have dragged us down, stealing our conscience and innocence; that in the end we simply won’t try not because we are not good, but downright not as strong as we used to be.
Now though surrendering to the cold is much easier, why don’t we walk together to the warmth?
But, of course, I won’t mind going there companionless.
I don’t care if it takes countless sleepless nights and injured pride.
I want to recycle many wasted years, let my attempts be spoken, as my tongue is tied.
I will be right where the nonpareil is, where the nonpareil shines.
I want to be where the nonpareil collides.
All the hatred pointed towards me, they improve me and help me to produce more love to others.
Because I’m such a snob and I just like to think that I’m a better person, and of every critic, I know there’s a huge space to prove that they were all wrong. :)
Coolness becomes tacky.
Silence becomes mutter and non-stop shaking.
Awkward smile becomes uncontrollable laugh.
Absence becomes unbearable.
Words become poison and medicine.
Stinks become fragrance.
Dirty hair become hair-brushing.
Nothing becomes almost everything.
Not even once becomes every single time.
No one becomes the universe.
I want to be left alone only for the sake of being alone because I want to be grateful of all the attention I started to despise.
Is it still too early to ask for that?