the world as we perceived

We can't control what we forget, we choose to forget to remember. 

Because in trying to forget, we are constantly being reminded of what we want to forget and in the end, will we really forget?

If betrayal is an extremism form of love, in the eyes of what we perceived as love, what is love? and so is forgiveness love or in itself, its betrayal?

We talk about judgement so who are we to judge, as an individual? as ourselves being a weighing scale of our internal moral values? or we take on an external persona that we think we are equivalent to judge?

The world might not be what we think it is. There's much more we have to learn. 

Torn

She walked right up to him, the scent of her long black hair whisked past him. His attention was on her.

She: I found the love letter.

He: Really?

She: It's sweet.

He: All right.

She: I can't figure it out.

He: What?

She: That coldness in you.

He: I wished you could feel my warmth.

She: I cannot imagine that warmth, the warmth that doesn't penetrate me.

He: That beautiful face of yours, the flawless skin, your arousing scent and the distinct neckline to your cleavage. I wished our lips could meet.

She: We could.

He: Repulse me, I can't.

She: Why?

He: I love you.

She: I love you.