Mon Crush a Moi

Love is like incorrect geometry: everything seems to add up, but the lines stubbornly curve anyway. Here's a couple who are either sparking or smoking. We didn't quite "get along," a little bit of "why are you writing to your ex again." The air between them is always swirling - with the smell of gasoline, adrenaline, and a touch of jealousy. She's quirky, but beautiful precisely in her madness. He's wild, but he tries to be gentle, although it comes out the opposite. Instead of confessions, there are arguments; instead of dates, there are adventures. Everything is not by the rules, but it's real. And tho it may look like chaos from the outside, inside is that same strange chemistry that can't be cured.