I don’t believe in love

I have too much life experience to believe in the romantic and star-crossed love of fairy tales. That is not for me.

I don’t want or need any more mythology or fantasy…both so full of empty promises and painful regrets. My heart hardened by scars from the self-inflicted and vengeful woundings suffered and inflicted in games better left un-played. Wounds brought about by the careless and empty riddles and puzzles tossed back and forth in exchange for things better unsaid and undone.

So I’ll leave the romantic love to the dreams of children with their shape-shifters and vampire tales.

But passion?

Oh, how!

I believe in passion.

Oh how, I long to sink my teeth into the flesh of passion and devour its breathe, its scent, its meat, its juices as it cooks beneath a blood-red sunset.

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