Heart&Soul

My soul is a big fire that never stops burning.

Sometimes it's so big that it's flames reach the stars and touch galaxies. 

Other times it's merely ashes lightly burning and making noises on thes ground.

Cripling silently as it's fumes fade away into the dawn.

On the other hand, my heart is as cold as the artic icebergs, drifting in a sea of sorrow, waiting for a boat to crash.

Even though it's ice seems as strong as titanium, it's very fragile and must be handled carefully for it is very breakable.

Ice so cold, not even the pits of hell could melt it.

 So cold that if anyone touches it, their hand freezes so that they're forced to take it off despite how bad they want to touch it. 

My heart and soul balance one another.

 There cant be one without the other and so i live.

Beauty

Beauty is an illusion, it's not real.

It's all about symmetry, proportions, cultural vallues and personal taste.

But real beauty, real beauty it's rare, and it can be found everywhere if you take away all the fucking bullshit that society puts us to.

If you think outside the box everything will be prettier.

Real beauty is found in smiles, the way eyes shine, the way people walk, and act and talk, the way they talk about what they like and what they dont, real beauty is found in struggles, in the heartbreaks and the downfalls.

Everything else isnt real, it's an illusion, it's a shell.

Everyone is beautiful if seen by the right eyes.

Her Shirt

I havent seen her in months. 

Her hair has grown out.

 Since our break up I never expected to see her again.

 I'm pretty shocked.

 Our eyes lock and I cant help to blush.

 Dammit I shouldnt be like this.

 She's wearing a leather jacket and a shirt saying "I dont make mistakes". 

Of course she doesnt. She's flawless. Her perfect hair and perfectly done winged eyeliner.

 Her resting bitch face breaks and she smirks at me. 

She turns her back while I stand there paralysed. 

She takes her jacket off and puts her hair do the side.

 "I date them" is written on the back of her shirt.

 That explains the narcissistic quote on front.

 I'm not surprised she has a passive agressive phrase on her shirt.

 I'm more surprised she thinks that about our failed relationship.

 I guess some things really do change.

Magic

My best friend is a magician.

No, I don't mean it in the way that our friendship is magic, no. I mean it in the way that he does magic. Card tricks, pulling rabbits out of hats. Smoke and mirrors.

I'm too rational for magic, I quickly understand his tricks, the way he pulls the cards, the way you think he has an ace of hearts in his hands but it was a joker all along.

He says i'm not the best audience. That instead of awstruck and admiration he gets a curious girl asking him to do the trick again till she understands how it happens.

But I admire him.

 I truly do.

I love each individual move he does while doing cardistry, and the way he loves his magic gets me full of excitement and admiration even if it's not my passion. And this sorta gets back to the first sentence I mentioned.

Yes, my best friend is a magician. 

A freaking good one. 

But the greatest magic I ever saw is the magic in his eyes while doing what he loves.