Maybe the reason it's easier to shrug away one who has made us their secret love is simply because we know our own flaws; we know under the right light, that illusion they believe will fall, and show us for what we really are instead of who they secretly hope us to be.

The devil told my mind that my thoughts held no power; and this seemed true until my thoughts I began to speak.

It amazes me, how many words there are spoken, how many thoughts...yet each speaks freshly to me each time as if they were never once spoken before.

I love when it's me you look at with that laughter in your eyes. It's reassuring, as if in letting me know my heart also had colors that you enjoy seeing. It makes me sparkle inside; I adore the times we sparkle together...to me nothing is better than those.

I always thought death was cruel, a silent destroyer of breath, of hope, of life. Now I understand it is physical death, the perception of it, the fear of it, which often saves us; for death marks the end of our flesh causing us to question the future of what we are.

When I was younger I feared the dark, wondering what evil was watching me. Now it's different, for now it's a game of sneaking the light back on and laughing at how quickly the evil fleas.

What is it about a secret love that makes everything they do shine, everything they say sound like a sonnet and every expression they make perfect, when to everyone else you speak to they're quite ordinary. It's a cruel sort of thing.