because love is like a mystery we always are on a unconscious search of something, a sliver, a trace, the tracks it's left leaving your house in the twilight. we fight we fight we fight, and the instruments still play. a kiss is just a kiss we are hungry for, to be nourished at least for a little while. some kisses mean nothing and sometimes they mean everything. it's the dangerous dance we learn to step, quick quick and slow. this is not a diary from me, but a request for those i know who seek love or try to deal with it. some fight and fight to keep it, some grow it in the back of their minds to comfort them, at least to have someone beside them at the lonliest lows. some have it and are content, but it is kept at a mild temperature to keep it from blowing up or cooling down. the boys forever will chase the girls after school. it's fine. that is how it is.