I was in love with her promises and the pretence of a world narrated by lies

I wasn't loved. I was just a dumping ground for her demons to rest in my heart to if it was their grave.

Some people are like stage magicians performing optical illusions of niceties. The real magic, Is their forming of a secret sinister world behind your back..

Love is beyond the realm of skin, the fadings of time, the erosions of distance.

Love is being wrapped up inside of each other; until nothing else exists

Love is two, splashing into the statics of atmospheric electrics