I enjoy reveling in those clandestine glances shared between lovers.

It’s like a secret morse code for “I love you” without even having to whisper the words.

And the gentle brushes against each others skin, the subtle indication that you are being cared for.   

It’s somewhat amazing how brazen the connection can be between two individuals.

As if the bones and the skin and everything else within, was thought out with much calculation to form the perfect combination.

But even the most compatible individuals will find themselves running out of time together.

They will find themselves chasing and running and hiding, and eventually, they’ll find themselves lost, in this crazy thing called love.

Just like how the locks can be broken, the locksmith of our hearts, can also take control.

And as I slowly find that it sometimes still hurts.

Life goes on, and one realises that the word love ceases meaning.

Like a flower in a vase, I fed on your love.

I’ve sucked on every drop of your love that could sustain me.

Now I’ve run dry and I slowly wither away.

My heart is an empty vase, a dead withered petal of emotions that lace.