To speak, utter, understand, absorb, mutter, comprehend, believe, know, splutter and sing the eternal, ineffable and ever enigmatic, ever elusive language of love, those sweet words of passion, desire and affection's pure meaning, one must lie throughout one's loving lover's live, lovely as it isn't, one must lie to one's only honest vessel, the sweet heart of existence, the muscle of life, love, desire and unending dreams, the only giver and provider of sheer thruth that we mere mortals, beings of this sweet Earth, the item truth that we could, or would posses throughout a long enough life time of laughter and luxurious lust...
There is no victory, triumph or sweet satisfaction in denying that lies lead only to the sweet provision of a loving lover's truth of a love, as yet, unloved. So, to speak of love in the integral, important ways that you may so desire, you must lie for all of the everlasting eternities you shall experience, for alone, lies lead to lover's loving love.
Because, my dear sweet one, captor of my loveless, lying heart - love itself is a liar's loving lie. Love itself is a lie.
There is no victory, triumph or sweet satisfaction in denying that lies lead only to the sweet provision of a loving lover's truth of a love, as yet, unloved. So, to speak of love in the integral, important ways that you may so desire, you must lie for all of the everlasting eternities you shall experience, for alone, lies lead to lover's loving love.
Because, my dear sweet one, captor of my loveless, lying heart - love itself is a liar's loving lie. Love itself is a lie.
