We have both become each others parasites, now we are becoming each others everything and surely this will only end in blood and tears. The way we've interweaved is something quite unnatural, a blessing from the providence I don't quite believe in yet. A mirror, some kind of reflection. The glass is not cracked, it's a perfect double. The fracture is inescapable but no longer insurmountable, and for that, I let hope smoulder in the base of my mind.

A chasm which cuts to the core of the characters we play. We are our own rocks, suspended in nothingness, frustrated, anxious and aimlessly circling, alive in the dark.

We are intertwined, we are choking each other in our sleep as a reflex brought on by the words we share. At the same time hands made out of syllables tighten their grip through screens, at the same time our lungs are filled with each others sounds via telephone wires, we know we will share a single heart whenever yours or mine gets broken again and so we close our eyes and we wake with the sun. This is our comfort, this is our trap, sometimes I think to myself this is an accident waiting to happen. But we carry on. We persist. Because this is what love is. This is what love is. This is what love is. This is what love is. This is what love is. This is what love is. This is what love is. This is what love is. This is what love is. This is what love is.