The innocence that breaks

In the morning I don’t love you, I love trying to get you.

Sacrifice for me, and I will want more – the insatiable animal thirst in me demanding you, one piece at a time, until I have nothing for you no longer remain, and it will fuel my hunger anew.

Give to me, and I will smile and laugh and thank and use up and cast aside. I cannot love what you give me unless it’s important, I cannot love you for copies, for things that aren’t rare: I cannot love you for what you can give to another.

Die for me, and I cannot love you but for your spirit, and the shadow which you leave behind – love contained by the walls of memory suffocates and dies.

Love me and run, and I will run too, after you and to the ends of the earth to capture and inhale the addiction carried with the breeze. Lead me up a mountain, and it will seem to me a stroll, as into the very air will be no obstacle.