Skeletons & Dust bunnies

Is it possible to love someone, know all of the little vacuum cleaner-resistant dust bunnies in the corners of the person’s soul, the skeletons wandering under the heart’s shadow, all the wrong turns taken in all of the crossroads of morality, the neon grafitti of past lovers names twirling around the bones, can you really still love someone with non-flailing, core steady confidence and trust, sending them a crocodile mouth trying to eat the number 3 through electronic devices, and kissing the person slow-mo on the mouth, when minty paste has yet to come to the rescue in the morning, is it possible to really fucking love someone in the true meaning of the word, to the point that you could be jumped by four people with mega-needles, extracting liquid from your heart in a peachy, sweet, pure color with no traces of black or grey or brown, telling that your heart contains NOTHING but love for this person, I don’t know if I’ll ever love like that, man, I don’t know if the liquids extracted from me will ever be unpolluted with the black pixels of doubt or grey threads of uncertainty


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