Image may be NSFW.
Clik here to view.
When I was in a rage, specifically against you,
Because you insulted the very thing about myself I most admired,
And then in the same breath, praised him, for the same quality,
I found at that pinnacle of blinding hate, love.
And this made perfect sense, in a way.
Love is alchemy. I couldn’t think of anything else that day.
Dreading lack of love, love sits there with its opposite
And mockery draws a picture of it
In renaissance colors and sighs.
No one else had ever insulted me so keenly,
And yet now I wanted to kiss you.
Love, in myth, falls in love with War.
I need to be insulted, I need it more
Than praise; in a rage, I fell in love with you.
The strangest thing in life: we find that myths are true.