Grand gestures and petty emotions. I gift you with an inch and you want seven and a half hours. Something so far fetched that not even the great Aristotle can philosophically concur a meaning. Just as we learn that the Earth is not flat, contrary to popular myth, you present my world with the insane notion of interplanetary jumping. Preying on the naivety of my innocent thinking, you send me a post card with: "How does one count to ten without starting at zero?" And before I can begin to formulate the slightest educated answer to your question, some unknown scientist publishes one sentence that turns my faith into disbelief and debauched reasoning: "Love is, by my own definition, the only perception of non-truth that ends up being true."
I meant it not this way but the tears just flow and my makeup smearing all the more, leaving behind that familiar filthy residue. I may have begun to drive myself away, dragging you down as well. But it's done, I've flipped the switch and now it's dark once more. How painful is the music to my ears, I can't stand to be alone in it, yet here I am again. I pray you fly back and safely and warmly to me, though I fear I've dug the grave too deeply. As the dirt shifts within my soul, I choke on those loving words I'd meant for you. All the fragments of light I see becoming smaller and I wish to be near you in your embrace that might make me feel the warmth I'm missing. And in reality, I doubt I'd breathe another breath without you. So come hither and quickly soothe my dying heart, you are the only cure I know. I cry and cry again, come hither to heal and love me. Come hither and help me dry my tears.
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