It is all that one can take, to stop from quivering all over. Love is a like a gun with powder so dark and fine that that rays of the sun bounce off it as it courses through the air guiding the bullet towards it target. So deep are the intricacies of its flower, blooming on even the coldest of winter days. So gray is its light, that black and white become shades under the complexity of its meaning.

Love.. is

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