That 1 lengthy and detailed conversation we had as I fixed her a hot bubble bath, it was very necessary to figure out the pattern in which each of our souls orbited around one another's life. Life. It seems that in the seams of this biographical regime, we get lost in between 2 wings, steering without a true tale, leading with our beaks instead of our two feet. Finding elation through impatience. Determination to fly without defining our own matrix. At that particular time I just wanted to slowly sit your soft body down into that pool of lavender scented steamed water, but everything you had to say nearly drowned me. The invisible crown I continuously placed on your head suddenly vanished as my imagination panicked. I always thought that my mind was backed up by my heart which was backed up by your art. Oh how gentle you scribble. I have to erase line by line, direction by direction, affection by affection, disconnect on top off disconnection. Difficulties I'm having while looking at you lather but no longer seeing you in the picture. Watching you lave as you give me your take on how our relationship was shaped was a bit unfitting. In my mind "it's inevitable that she's open for bidding". I'm lounged against the sink in a bind. Bonded by your fondness, then detached by your honest responses. How blunt you are and how drunk I'm soon to be. Wasted vibrations, my mouth began to tremble. Somehow I find an idea to cause the both of us to tickle. Temporary bliss. Moreover all of my hard efforts that night turned out to be the worst shift. I went from pleased to please. Expectedly you never tried to appease by appealing to my needs. Draining water like my decaying heart. Drying off reminds me of my suffocated feelings. Lotion as I drink this 40% potion. Hoping of hydrated coping. Can you leave? So I can shower, attempting to rinse away the most beautifully devastating hour.

If I was blind I could still see you.
If I had no mind, my thoughts will still think of you.
Without legs I will be chasing you all over town until my arms become dead.
No lips but I will still yearn for your kiss.
Picture me without a face, yet grinning everytime you open your arms for my embrace.
What if I had no hands? I will still hold onto my every plan, to be your perfect man.
One day I will be without a heart; however, loving you like I did from the start.

My dominant aura and her keen instincts was so telepathic, we disregarded words and just walked away with each other.

Can you tell that I already told myself that I will love you to death? Well I haven't died yet, but it don't feel like I'm living neither. I need you, it's a must that you come back into my life to save me from this tranquility. The irony of how I'm still breathing surprises me. My mind misguided me and the further away you became my heart reminded me.

I hate living in a society where the chaos is so cryptic and over looked by a overflow of major events and mass material. The chaotic tendencies of our nation is so systematic and crafted that most of us are able to feel unaffected. I much rather everything be ruthless and blatant so we can be aware that we're going through the stages of ruination.

It was a shiny tear that rolled down her melanated cheek as she uttered the words "maybe next lifetime". I respected it, however; it was that very moment I wished lightening struck us both dead.