Remember, Romeo, all true romance ends in suicide.

Dec 30, 2007 - 18:31 PM PST

And she looked at me.

That's all, she looked at me with her dark hazel eyes, with a hint of green on the edge. They always seemed to be some sort of enigma. A prelude to some distant ballad about a universe where a girl could have her heart crushed, and she still be living with a flicker of love in her lips. She looked at me, as we moved in closer and closer, awaiting the inevitable moment where our lips would meet in that stable house; where so many men have failed her to love him, and so did I that night.

A time of no proportions was spent in that one moment. It was the second that books are written about, the events of some sad teenage day dream that is against all odds, real.

Christian Stran, Lord may loathe that child and his deceitful nature, for he is the antagonist of my existence in her life. The story of the century will never be written because of his inability to let go of her, and her inability to walk away when she had the chance. He took the world from her, and she believes he is the only one who can bring it back.

We moved closer and closer, my heart raced, our eyes closed.

And finally, it happened.

Like a supernova, just as its beginning the dances of light and explosion, it is the brightest star in the sky. The amount of energy released rivals that of the sun, and in most cases, over powers it.

And so I dubbed the moment a supernova.

It ended just as quickly as it started.