We're inevitably drawn towards the impossible and the insane; the ones that drive us crazy, the ones that make us fall in love with every rejection and ignorance. The louder their minds, the silent your thoughts. Your cigarette burns in the dead of night trying to find words, that you hope will make them stay. It's not what they are when you are around them, but what they hide when you are not; the way the roots are protected and the branches out in the open. They give you back your feelings the innocence and you wish you could just write them back to life. They are your favorite inspiration, but for a second do not imagine that could be a complement. You like to play with the demons in their head and suddenly they become yours. You enjoy their piece of insanity when you question yourself if this is what they said romance would be.