Maybe, just maybe, true love isn’t a perfect story, an easeful journey, or light devoid of inky darkness.
Maybe its forgiveness when you shouldn’t, maybe its the moment you choose your tender aching heart when temptation to be aloof drowns you.
Maybe its not about romance, or sex. Even if it lives in those things too.
Maybe its wholly illogical, twisting and turning like the trees that grow at the center of a vortex.
Maybe its whole, in a world that asks you to cut yourself into pieces.
And maybe just maybe, thats why its so terrifying.
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