The universe is a labyrinth of what is right and what is easy, what is socially incorrect and all the petty desires and insane fetishes that the human mind is capable of having in its apathetic glory. And we’re trying to get through, you and I, pretending we knew, pretending we threw breadcrumbs on our way here. And what we know is, that our beds will be cold in the summer, even when the sun steps down and kisses our pillows. What is know is that we’ll be together as long as you keep your hands off my ribs that are bound to rupture at the faintest touch of whatever you’re made of, because they can only take so much dirt, and only another million of my apologetic ballads that I write to them on days when I ache for something I’ve never had the privilege to regret later. So let’s be, till the last petal of your rose of trivial joys withers, and we realise that we’ve wanted much more. Or less. Let us wander, into each other’s heads keeping in mind the boundaries of their dreams and crossing the ones of our own. Let us forget that forevers cease to exist the minute one whispers them into another’s ear, and let us drink each other’s sorrows in the form of whiskey and slow kisses in hope to feel less deranged. We hold maps on our backs to destinies we’d never care to reach, but let us try anyway. It is futile to tell each other it’ll be okay, so let us roll in the fragrant filth of our dead lilacs in no hope for a better tomorrow; let us share each other to an extent till we don’t feel vulnerable or ashamed to be creatures of a million universes stitched into one.