“Love is impossible.” Sitting so casual, so stoic “It requires more from any one person than they can actually provide.” Did you hear it then? Water dropping from the faucet in the kitchen. The slow patter as it falls circles the drain.
How was a response to be made? What series of words? How does one string together an argument to destroy a lifetime? Is it possible to reverse the gears that turn our world? I was reborn in fire and ice while you wallowed in your stale word of smoke and shadows. I rose triumphant to place the wake in which giants would follow. You sat in your murky pool with sanguine arms and alcohol stained words. Strung together to defeat me.
“I don't want to be the one that wakes you up.” Today he sleeps forever. Tomorrow he digs through the wreckage to discover the fluid prose it's grace without contest unchallenged by the razor blades and shot glasses of the world. The whimsical combination of combatants required to shake the slumber from the halls and utter the lines of magics to share his dream with you. “Love is impossible.”