I have never loved a truth only partial lily lips blushed with life, a life that was projected from previous experiences tid bits of passing familiarities extrapolated, fragmented, then placed into an impossible puzzle.
That is the tragedy. Though I love humanity I have never loved the truth of her only the illusion that she can never be plastered in poetry dedicated to me. The lie fits perfectly into my dreams so I sleep with the hopeful heart of humanity because that is the only love that is true to me.