Maybe love is just a farce, and to say love is a beautiful feeling is a fallacy.
Love is just a feeling that one gets, and falls in the same category as hope does: HOPELESS.
I could smell the intoxicating odour of cigarette smoke, as the Lost Woman puffs away, probably looking at me from behind as I stand and stare outside the window: the roads in KL are still wet from the heavy downpour an hour ago, as wet as the torso of both Lost Woman and I.
I took a sip of my JD Coke. In the back of my mind I know that the Lost Woman will soon start thinking about what Ambrose Bierce had said about love:
“Love: a temporary insanity, curable by marriage.”
Whereas my quote on love would be:
“L.O.V.E – like F.U.C.K, is just another meaningless four-letter word.”
She took another puff, inhaled deep, and exhaled poisonous gas. Finally finding the courage, she asked, “You have had me so many times now. Do you actually love me?”
I turned to look at her, slowly sipping my JD Coke, then turned back to look out the window.
I just made love to you, Woman. Doesn’t that count?
SeaDemon Says 