There are a million reasons to why I do and at the same time, I don’t love you; there are a million reasons to why I say this is false and that is true.
I am discretely irrational and predictable in my choices; I have always been this way irrespective of the surroundings and voices.
You pointed out to me that I run on the wire of existential crisis; I cut my feet and hands out but I put the wire in me, made it pass through my veins.
I don’t take your critisicms personally, just in case you thought I did; I just look at them through my window of thought and let them grow into me deep.
Love, unfortunately, couldn’t grow like a mushroom; I never could gather enough dirt on it and neither could leave it turning into a loom.
There are always a million reasons that I can cite or create and even make them look convincing at your face. I won’t do any of it though, for one simple reason and that’s my honest unprecedented love for you.