...like a drunkard, passionate moth fluttering towards the flicker of death.......The irony of love, how it is able to intoxicate and destroy. To love is to risk being hurt...cliche` and repeated till the cats, cows and sheep come home perhaps, but like the moth, we are irresistibly drawn to the flame, nevertheless. Sometimes, not to one flame but
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Ironic isn't it? And so we hide in our little sanctum wondering if we welcome those who knock on our doors...
Oh well, at least you have a drop-dead-gorgeous friend like me.
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