Love you,

I sound like an arrogant asshole how I come across to those that read my words as words and actions our of the same. Without meaning can truly be no reason to feelings, one can not really see nor feel, nor touch, neither sense of heaviness as soft as silk through thy fingers,
Each touch knows no bounds tho it flows to the same distance as hearts need to feed the illusion what most crave is to be loved,

I craved for it once lived each day for it smelt it tasted it and breathed it, living in a bubble nothing outside the bubble mattered just as long as the fire in our hearts carried the burning flame on.. Then it ended like most things do good and bad things end and new chapters always arise.

I prefer my own single new chapters now because love isn’t guaranteed and whilst it isn’t It’s just wasting what little time I have searching for the illusion…. So for me it’s not to be Loved or to Love whom  it’s to Love myself as thats the most definitely the realist thing you can ever do…

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