oh to feel the wuthering heights love can bring to the static position we play, locked in the 21st century of telephone falsities claiming one another as our own.

call me old fashioned, but i adore the thought of a love that burns brighter than the sun, enduring the span of a human lifetime.

the intertwining of fingertips and locking of pupils, dilating kaleidoscopes.

synchronised shadows mimicking the crackling inferno of united hearts.

capsules of the essence, stuck in turn, two souls becoming one.

what is a greater loss? failed attempts to love in a generation that do not dive deeper than the shallow pools dwelling in their ducts; or to be swept away in a current of deceit, fooling yourself to believe it is real.