You're a user that will never access the password to my heart

I was born when you kissed me. I died when you left me. I lived a few weeks while you loved me.

Who Care, Never Be Cared

Like a lot of people, I love a bit of blood and gore.

Who would have listened to his tales of woe when his love was the flickering lamp over his own decaying tomb?

Love, he told himself, was open to interpretation like any other abstract indulgence but followed the same principles everywhere, irrespective of everything else. One, either won or lost in love, there was no bridge in between, and he decided he had lost, lost to himself, if not to her.