I've tried to make it; to forget, to make it pass as if it were simple passion, embarrasing lust, poisonous desire...but it does not go away nor fades, mate, it does not leave; and it has nothing to do with all of the above.It is essencial, you see...and every once in a while it hurts like hell, all demons piercing their claws in my chest full of bleeding organs and thunders and voices from above and below.
Showing mercyless disrespect and running away tend to be my childish strategies so that you don't realize what you already know, what all other tastes haven't been able to erase, what that first look full of those many mysteries that you bred inside wrote in me.
Damn the day in which you took my hand, but I wished for it and I would follow till ...cursed I am, so mote be it.
(Love is a strange fruit; whenever you think it is not of your taste, it fills your mouth with unknown pleasures. If it hasn't happened to you, it will...xD)
