"What is love?" She ponders holding an inkless pen, pressing the tip on a blank paper. She curses shaking it.
"It's empty," she mutters, tossing the pen, allowing it to fly into her dustbin. With a frown, she takes out a pencil.
"Love is the production of an unbreakable bond," she scribbles the words whilst mumbling softly, "between two individuals."
Her frown deepens at the ludicurous words and she crosses them out with her pencil.
The use of an eraser was not in her mind.
Instead, she writes, "love is a beautiful conspiracy theory thought of by a cynical philosopher who went unknown."
To this, she tears the page from the book roughly and crumples it up. Without consciousness, she holds the pencil again. Thoughts of what love coule be swirls in the labrynth that is her mind.
Love. It could be the world's greatest and last destruction.
Love, could be the world's formation.
Love could mean anything,
But love could also mean everything.
At last she writes,
"love is a pirate's treasure, a hunter's prey, a writer's words, the cross of the letter 't'. Love, is endless. Love is infinite."
With an odd satisfaction, at 2:39 midnight, she switches off her lamp light and falls into her bed's embrace.
-LovableConundrun
°○°○24/09/2018°○°○2:39a.m°○°○
______________________________
Love is undefined.
______________________________