A.N.: Thanks for the reviews! I really appreciate it.

Here's some more, though I don't think it's nearly as raw or "flowing" as the previous snippet.

It was splitters and kisses and dancing on the moon. It the whispers of dreams that often left you too soon. It was Love playing her folly.

You saw her less and less are your eyes saw more and more. She made you feel delusional and uptight. While you held your mother’s hand you would glance behind you and see her dancing under the streetlights at night. You would look again though, and she’d be gone. All that would be left was a pair of soiled dancing slippers. It reminded you of a fairytale you once were told. Dancing daughters, a distraught king, and a conniving prince. You loved the sight of the dancing Love dressed in ribbons of moonlight and taffeta stars. Someday, maybe it would be you dancing. Someday, you’d love to live the fairytale Love had placed her own self in.

Love wasn’t easy to find though. Maybe she was getting bored, or wanted to play a cruel experiment on you–see how you coped without her by your side.

It didn’t matter too much. You had started school, and that kept you busy and irritated most of the time. School was hard for you. You liked stories and wishes, but everyone else was wrapped around logic. The teacher got on to you for coloring your pictures in obscure colors. A purple sky with dusty stars and a frowning sun. “That’s not right,” your teacher frowned. “The sky is blue and when the sun is out, the stars hide. The sun is always happy, sweetie. Never sad.”

But you thought the sun would be awfully lonely, being the one who had to shine everything, leaving nothing left to shine for him. You felt very close to this sun, and often times, you would imagine conversations you’d have with him. You made your own Love, and this time, it was a he.

The concept was so foreign to you that you could only grasp a little of it. You were only seven, and boys were a whole species altogether. Other girls thought boys were gross and should be quarantined, but you found yourself fascinated. You would chase them around the playground, asking for a kiss. You weren’t so sure what a kiss what really, so whenever you did catch one of the rascals, you would straddle them and pretend to sprinkle magic over them.

“That’s a kiss,” you would smirk. Disgusted, they would run off, and everyone might tease you for being so promiscuous, but later that day they would tell you how much they admired it. The only people the children knew who had a kiss what their parents or siblings.

Parents. The word settled upon you and like a wound, it would not heal fast enough for you to ignore the pain. The only way to get ride of it was find out truth. It was time for questions, a nervous risk altogether. Your mother had become someone new now that you were coming to the age where you would be able to take care of yourself. She was gone during the night, and slept in the day. It was rare to see Love visiting her, and often, it was apathy that covered her face. She still called you her little one, but never sending her glance towards you. It was just a pretend.

Your mother laughed when you asked what a kiss was. You asked if she ever had received one, and she laughed harder. “A few maybe,” she admitted. “But that was a long time ago.”

How curious. Wanting more answers, you asked if her first kiss was your father. It was a dangerous question, but you were so curious. Any child would be.

Your mother shuddered, and half of her face cracked into a glare so hard, that you couldn’t place a word on it. It was something akin to Love, but entirely different. It was sadistic and painful, and you stared in your mother’s eyes trying to figure this all out.

Out of the reflection of her orbs, someone stared back at you. A grin touched his lips, and it was a handsome but cruelly angled man. He was poisonous and toxic, but compelling.

“Hello, child,” he whispered to you. “I’m Hatred.”

It was shocking of course, but what shocked you even more was there was a lady standing next to him, her body pressed up against his. She looked straight at you, and laughed softly. It was Love, and she had found someone to finally keep up with her.