love leaves marks

love leaves marks. love doesn’t ask for permission before it trespasses. it shows up with roses and leaves with claw marks. there’s a kind of romantic nihilism in that, y’know? we let it in like it’s divine revelation, but it mostly feels like a slow-motion car crash in retrospect. I wanted to capture that blind devotion—how we surrender to it without questioning the cost. there's no equilibrium in love, no fair transaction. it’s entropy disguised as intimacy, a sweet little parasite feeding off your sanity. this piece isn’t about heartbreak in the pop-song sense. it’s more about the subtle brutality of affection unfiltered by reason. that space where desire overrides clarity, where tenderness becomes anatomical. the marks aren’t metaphorical. they're consequences. some people call it passion. others call it a clinical lapse in self-preservation. I call it nothing. but honestly, it's all just an experiment in emotional gravity.