If I stab you with the crescent moon, you can’t be mad at me. You can be surprised, but not angry. No one can admonish me for using the moon as a weapon. In the unimaginable world, a moon stabbing is perfectly acceptable. I know this type of romance takes patience. I’m busy in so many realms, I’m not always available. I sleep with my eyes open so I can keep you amused.
If I smother you with a rain cloud, it’s just another illusion. Don’t hold it against me. None of it’s real. I’m throwing stars at you, but you don’t even feel it. I’ve crushed you three times today with a mountain, and you go on as if nothing happened. I rose from the dead just to see what’s for dinner. I slipped though the silk membrane of time so you wouldn’t have to sleep alone tonight. I’m body and blood. I’m the good with the bad. I’m not what you think when you think you’re thinking about love.
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