Like Perfection

It's like a dance – twisting and turning. They spit insults like it's foreplay and obscenities like they're pet names.

They argue and kick and fight. It reminds me of fire. Always burning and full of love-hate passion that consumes everything that they do. This...thing they have is smoldering and alive. This thing that has a name. It's a stupid four letter word. It's a word for pussies. This word should be kept under lock and key. God knows that if it was released, it would destroy this beautiful thing. This thing that's almost like perfection.

In the end, it's a cycle – a serpent eating it's own tail. Every time they part ways, all that's left is the ashes of the memory of it. Until the next time it starts up again.