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Literature Text
What you told me
When I said "I love you."
"fuck off, and die."
So I did
Isn't that what lovers do?
When I said "I love you."
"fuck off, and die."
So I did
Isn't that what lovers do?
Literature
I know you, I love you
We fall in love with the microscopic, rough-edged details of people. We crave the knowledge of our lovers, crave to know them the way nobody else can. In a way, these idiosyncrasies become our own personal gift, a sliver of our favorite person preserved within ourselves.
You love the way he licks his lips twice before saying something important, exactly twice, like he’s counting out two seconds to reclaim his composure.
You love how her fingertips smell like turpentine and lavender when she finishes a painting because she doesn’t stop until her brushes are clean, and then she spends too much time trying to scrub her hands fresh.
Literature
This is love
In this empty room
We stand together
In silence
In the darkness
Our shattered hearts
Bleeding together as one
While the blood runs
Through our cold skin
This is what love is like
Two broken people
Sharing their pain
Merging their empty souls
We forget about the world
Because we live in a world of our own
United as one
In an illusion of happiness
Literature
Love is...
Love
Is like
A rose
So delicate
So beautiful
But adorned
With sharp
Thorns
Love
Is like
Poison
A poison
That kills you
Slowly
And there is
No antidote
Love
Is like
Glass
Fragile
But its
Shards
Can kill
You
In a brief
Monent...
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So simple, yet so powerful. Wonderful work!