There are just traces of me and not a shadow left…
Without the traces of your iridescence to make my silhouette.

Love is the most beautiful of dreams and the worst of nightmares.

Love and being in love are not the same thing. The woman takes the man she loves into her body and absorbs his oils and essence. A part of him enters her and becomes a part of her.

Sometimes love is pastel. Sometimes love is black. And sometimes love is fiery red and you feel as if you are going to burn in the flames.

Love brought its tail of pains,
its long static beam of thorns,
and we close our eyes so that nothing,
so that no wound will separate us.

The end of love looks like the beginning of war