Criminal

"Our conditions; critical, our souls; eternal and our love; criminal,

Criminals. That's what we are. Criminals. Every single movement, every single thought, every single cell arising in our bodies. It's all illicit. This crime is what we have been told against since the day we took our first breaths and they shall take the ones to come, away from us the moment they find out. The connection between us and the crime is an immoral conundrum and for every second we live as ourselves, we receive torture in return. However, for every second we do not live as ourselves and simply choose to end this immoral conundrum, our conditions shall be critical for on and on.

We have committed what they call a victimless crime yet we are the victims here. And we shall stay content with it for they may really make us the criminals we have been accused to be. For we may commit a crime with a victim if we so much as ask for a word more, so as long as we commit in camouflage, our souls shall stay eternal.

We have been dragged apart, forced to watch the other in pain as all our efforts go to vain. I ask you what the point is at times and I recall it the second I look to meet your gaze. You glare the cliche daggers of contempt to my eyes in their presence, but as they leave, contempt turns to soft content. Yes, all our efforts go to vain yet all our love shall stay the same; criminal.