It is hard to kill fantasies in a world so real, you can’t breath.
I don’t want your truth, your logic.
I want to believe that rain is the consequence of my smile and I can burn all of my existence without fire.
If loving you means that I will run out of sentences, words and letters to understand that I may kill myself then be it.
If hearing colours is a myth then I will play blue on repeat until my eardrums disappear into thin air.
I will believe that your breath is like wine on my bare back and your laugh is like a sin attached with pleasure.
I don’t want your reality. Your reality is like malice wrapped in the covers of ambition.
Your reality is a screaming reminder of how fairies commit suicide when they are treated like a lie.
If loving you is like counting stars then I might never stop. It is endless, tiring and as exhausting as your quest for peace.
And Peace cannot be found by being indifferent to life.
I will believe that roaming in banquets and climbing curtains is the only way one can live peacefully.
My desire for peace got murdered the day I set my eyes on something as inarticulate as you.
You are so deeply nailed into my bones that resurrection from this is as impossible as changing your mind.
So I will believe that there is a rock far away from here where you don’t die and I don’t kill myself.
If loving you is like a storybook I read when I was five then I will ruin my mother’s life in order to have at least a thousand copies of the same.
I will read each copy thrice and remember the amount of times your name came up.
So that each time I utter it, my mother knows the cause of my death and my father remembers that sometimes one can give birth to chaos and love it all the same.
If loving you is like freezing then my body is cold enough to prevent the earth from global warming.
I will believe that unicorns collect sunsets every morning and birds are singing to remind me that I have a set of unidentified liquid mountains in my heart with your breath smeared on them.
I will believe that nothing is as charming as your fear of looking into my eyes and realizing that I am the most unapologetic misery you have ever come across.