if the vessel is broken to begin with, how can one love? it oozes, it overspills, it falls between the cracks, it is imperfect. it is fouled, for not only do we mistake lust, for love, the mundane, for the divine, but we add in all kinds of illusions into it. eternity, affinity, dependency. what was once reserved for the sacred now becomes profane.
“i do not know what would i do without you,”
“it is only you that i can confide into,”
“in the end, i return to you.”
“i want to love you forever.”
alas, you can never contain me to begin with.
perkaraperkara 