| 10:45p |
Passion
Lovely, lovely. All extremes of beauty washed upon his features.
Every inch, line, muscle, all crafted to perfection. Like a wax statue,
except the warmness of our bodies embraced, entertwined doesn't melt him
into something nothing more than a puddle of nothingness.
Nothingness is what ruins people. What causes people to become fake,
be something society wants them to be. They lose touch of what is really going on,
of who they really are. They becomes victims of society, all superficial hypocrites.
Exact copies of one another, trying to be just like Her and exactly like Him.
But He, He is't like Him and doesn't try to be like Him. He is himself, and in a way its
simplicity. To describe He in one word, it almost seems impossible. But as He would say-
and the best word i can think of now-He is placid.
O-but placid am I far from. Just feelings I can't really explain. Things I've thought
I have forgotten how to feel. How to feel? But what I feel now, is almost like feeling nothing
with nothing combined with everything all at once. If that made sense at all.
To put these feelings into words, would be something like:
Happy.
Eager.
Excited.
Sad.
Angry.
Hurt.
Passion.
Passion.
Passion.
For a life once lived once lost. Passion. |