I fell in love with your stories. They were what plagued me, that you were, that you are a beautiful person who lives greater in places than even my imagination. And they'd do battle, my dreamy mind and your fascinating heart. Then they'd trade places when we'd make love. All the while, we've been, your word, unravelling, the mystery together. Yes, we'll find each other again and do it if we're lucky enough to be old. Even if we don't get that wrinkly far, we once agreed that our souls had never met until this very life, but now that they have, I'm certain they'll be acquainted infinitely.
When someone speaks directly to your spirit it's a form of cruel warm torture.
I'll be shaving here all month.
