Infinite
- Reads 351
- Votes 19
- Parts 10
Roses. It smelled like her. It's always been about her.
One day. One hour. One minute. One second.
Everything counts as a promise were made and broken into pieces.
What you thought you knew was never as it seemed. It all started with her and it'll end with her.
Dead or alive. She matters most of all.
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I made a promise, a commitment, a vow, and an oath that I'd never fall into the brutality they call love ever again, as it is something not to be toyed with. Think of it this way: Love is like a scented candle. The candle stick and the waxed aroma make the candle itself. Then it's ignited by a great inferno, and together, they make a beautiful thing. It burns for a long time, but then it loses that flame, that spark that ignited the creature. I guess the two most important ingredients gave up on each other. "Love" can be a metaphor, a simile, but most of all, a promise. A promise that can't be kept, something that waits until infinity to be broken. At least that's what I, Roseabella Swayed, once believed.
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