Maybe I wanted to stay after the movie ended
After the credits crept
And after the audience silently left.
The two of us, alone and at last.
The protangonist of us begins to divide into those undeveloped scripts of complex love and interrupted infatuation before a hundred different imaginary You's and Me's seated in the seats who are secretly produced to see the truth.
Directed by your hands and interpreted by my words, the scenes of love stir within the silent speech spoken with sacred significance.
Projected by brown eyes, the perfect pixels define the picture of our combined minds linked and repeated a hundred times with brilliant undiscovered colors.
The soundtrack sweeps soft piano keys into misunderstood, almost invisble melodies into the epitome of sentimental climax.
In the middle of this theatrical bliss, forever to be continued, hearts expand and crave a kiss.