We are two solipsists performing a duet of devotion, each of us too terrified to admit that we are alone. I have curated our life to look like a masterpiece, but beneath the varnish, it's a chamber of horrors-a mutual, silent agreement to ignore the decay. You are the mask I wear to convince myself I am human; I am the lie you tell yourself to avoid the void. But the seams are fraying. When we finally strip away the performance, we won't find love underneath. We will find two strangers, starving for a reality that neither of us ever had the courage to possess.
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A Fall of Red Roses Comments