Love in one of the rose’s petals is more delicate than the tender heart.
It seeps blood to join the living. When the time comes, the blood turns red like roses in the garden of Eden.
One has to understand the ultimate sacrifice when rosy feeling shares the same blood color.
The temperature starts to speak, mingling about what it means to be alive.
Alive with the one you share the bed with is something that needs to be cherished.
I am not sure if the temperature in the room is the right degree to withstand the heat within.
Love has the shapes that only fits the space. This space will only bring the truth when the two share the same heart.
People may find fault to really understand what the universe is saying. But sometimes the language only understand the spoken words from the same background.
Where should you begin to contemplate the meaning of life. As you go along with the patina of time, I think it’s best to speak than being mute.