I am here, I can feel it.
And I know you do, too.
Calling it love would be anything but true.
Because there are no inconsistencies.
It's a slow, melodic rhythm.
We are not in love.
We are deep, within a Prism.
What lies beyond love.
What most don't get to see.
A Prism that floats amongst space, aimlessly.
Above life, above all, above land, above sea.
Where the world seems minuscule, comparatively.
Because love is naive.
Broken hearts fixed with glue.
No, I am not in love.
I'm in a Prism, with you.
Jan 14, 2019
Jan 14, 2019 at 12:44 PM UTC
I am here, I can feel it.
And I know you do, too.
Calling it love would be anything but true.
Because there are no inconsistencies.
It's a slow, melodic rhythm.
We are not in love.
We are deep, within a Prism.
What lies beyond love.
What most don't get to see.
A Prism that floats amongst space, aimlessly.
Above life, above all, above land, above sea.
Where the world seems minuscule, comparatively.
Because love is naive.
Broken hearts fixed with glue.
No, I am not in love.
I'm in a Prism, with you.
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