I breathe passion. That's how I'm. I don't know another way of living. Everything is extreme for me. When I laugh, I laugh till my stomach aches. If I cry, you can expect an ocean of tears. If I love, I eat love, I drink love, I sleep love, I become the love. And don't you dare to make me hate you. If you do that, you will be the last person alive on this planet except me and yet I won't look at you eye in the eye. This is how I perceive life. I don't know any shackles that can bind me. No one can control me. Whatever I do, I'm in it.Am I being crazy? Is it bad to be real? Even though I'm asking these questions, I really don't care for the answers. This is what makes me, ME. I'm not passionate. I'm the passion.
The men in love They are so beautiful The men in love wearing their hearts on sleeves looking at you from daybreak to eve high on mere forehead kisses dying to fulfill your wishes audacious enough to make you cry and still will hold you till you say a loving goodbye pretending to go on days without you and making it through midnight rains running to you mischievous with that little smile when they catch you looking at them for a while all the brothers and fathers in the world they come in one ...
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