Everything we love slips like water.

Love is a fraud, anything that causes unpredictable distortions,
it takes no definite form nor extent, and it slips in our hands no matter how tight we hold onto it.

Like cold water against our bare hands:
it is soothing as if something we want to last the sensation of,
Like the beach waves washing over our feet:
it is euphoric and unforgettable as if we were both meant to find solace in the same places.

Like water that quenches our thirsty souls' dehydration:
it fills up the gaps in our bare beings with something better we never thought we could ever have before,
Like water as the universal solvent:
we either mix and complement each other, or dissolve the good parts left of us when we feel pain.

IA