But there are no Bullets...and there are no Trains
It all begins with the First look.
The meeting of eyes that sparks a flame inside your stomach.
The infallible desire that follows a simple glance.
It devours you like a poison that has no antidote.
But what is It?
That word,
Love.
So meaningful,
Yet so meaningless.
Do You Really Love?
You say you would do any thing
Because you Love.
Take any Bullet
Step in front of every Train.
...but there are no Bullets
And There are no Trains.
Do you really Love,
Or do you pretend?
Do you conform to the idea,
Or dive into the reality that you create?
We're so caught up in the traps of this powerful word.
Love is what you make it
Love is what you accept
It can't be fabricated
it can't be washed away
You can't buy it
You can't sell it
And you can't trade it.
It is authentic
It is indescribable
And unreliable.
Love is...real.
What do I want my Love to be?
I want it to be special.
I want to feel every up
and Every down
with every inch of of my flesh.
And I want to feel safe
I want to see the bullets and the trains and I want to face them.
I want to conquer them,
And experience true joy.
Love is patient
Love is kind
Love is easy until the money is tight
Love is fun until the people start to stare
Love is stressful until you value yourself
Love is easy until it's real.
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