i have a fatal attraction to your mismatched fragments & your meaningless tangents seem to mean the world to me.

Your alternate dimension keeps crashing into this one & love's got me experiencing symptoms without ever getting sick of you.

The sun still lives his silent vows to the moon, by bowing to kiss her feet whenever she walks in the room.

You are theremedy of intensityi need in my life, tospin me out of themiserable monotonyof working on life'sdaily assemblylines.

She was his Eve. He was her fall. He'd make the leaves of her trees blush, then he'd undress them all.