Two cups on a table, one empty, the other overflowing. What makes of damaged souls, somehow complementary. One, which needs to catch the drops it spills, one which has nothing to fill itself with. One that breaks and builds around itself to fit the other perfectly. One that keeps on pouring onto leaky hallow endings. Exchanging parts and bits and pieces, until both coexist within the same space, no difference in between them. Yet, one forever destined to stay empty, a shallow void of what was once a whole being, whilst the other always just too full to make place for even “nothing”. In the end, one inevitably breaks, as it lacks the strength to hold on to the others weakness.
To love sometimes is a selfish act, as many feel they should to prove potential within themselves. One in need to show they could feel all without fear nor restriction. One to prove they could be the object of such joyful feelings
.In the end, neither make it in this cruel world, as they never truly become the fullest version they aspire for. Their insides too cold, their outsides too hot and the two cups lay now lifeless on the floor, mourning the desires they once had.