Sometimes you meet people that you grow to love. And then other times, you cross paths with some that just click with your senses; heighten your emotions so high everything else seems to disappear.
But beware of those who just snap into place for they will inject their venom into the depths of your heart and leave skid marks on the surface.
They will plaster your atriums with Picasso murals and sheet music from Bach only to cover the walls with kerosene and burn it to the ground for the sole soul-wrenching sake of "art".
And that's okay, you will live on.
But there will still be scars at the entrance sites from every drop of poison. There will still be scars from the train tracks he carved from the bat of his eyes and the pucker of his lips. There will still be scars from the blaze
because when fire burns it does so passionately carelessly wonderfully with furiosity
And you will find pieces of clay under different piles of ash; You will find treble clefs and fermatas hidden under every ember that was left to die. You will still find beauty in the destruction.
And maybe it's still okay to admire the ruins, even just for a little while.