Slide 1

Metaphorical
Oblivion
by

The way my lips form a curve
whenever I see your name come up on
my screen as the notification goes off,
*ping*, you are online.
My heart does that thing it does, you know
that thing, where it skips a beat or a few
bars, kind of like that girl in a bar who
drank too much and fell off her heels on the
dancefloor after one too many shots of
tequil – a.

Deep down I know it’s not real, but this
metaphor is like a sandcastle that we
built in the air and not with sand
but with words and the pictures of our
days, play in my head like a film reel
and this forms our exchanges and our
conversations.

Cyber-ficial interchanges of ideas and
thoughts of what makes us tick and of
what makes us talk.
We miss each other. But what is it
that we miss if not something we
can touch? We have built this
metaphor of emotions that are not
tangible, but yet we can feel it.

We feel it when we say you and
when we say I and when the
word love is weaved in between
the two to form a sentence that
to most would read I love you,
but to us, it remains invisible to
our naked eye…

because we cannot say it, not to
each other, it would be a lie,
because you cannot love a
metaphor.
A symbol, an image, a façade,
you cannot love a
representation of your
imagination.

You cannot hold a screenshot of
the last message that came
through when you felt lonely
and their online presence was
the only thing that comforted
you like the virtual presents
that he would send you.

You cannot kiss the text
message that reads “I want to
be with you”, as your lips part
and you read the words and
envision his lips touching yours
as you mouth the last syllable
out loud.

I close my eyes and the images that
flood my mind open the valves of
my tear ducts and the salty water
escapes and burns my cheek as it
falls to the ground, like my
emotions fall – slowly, but it makes
a loud sound.

One that makes me open
my eyes and stare at the
veil that is between us,
the veil that has become
my refuge.

I tell myself: I want more. I
need more.
That’s when reality sets in and
it feels like a knife has been
pushed through my heart as I
catch my breath and in that
moment I realize…
I AM IN LOVE WITH A METAPHOR


Slide 2

Metaphorical
Oblivion
by

The way my lips form a curve
whenever I see your name come up on
my screen as the notification goes off,
*ping*, you are online.
My heart does that thing it does, you know
that thing, where it skips a beat or a few
bars, kind of like that girl in a bar who
drank too much and fell off her heels on the
dancefloor after one too many shots of
tequil – a.

Deep down I know it’s not real, but this
metaphor is like a sandcastle that we
built in the air and not with sand
but with words and the pictures of our
days, play in my head like a film reel
and this forms our exchanges and our
conversations.

Cyber-ficial interchanges of ideas and
thoughts of what makes us tick and of
what makes us talk.
We miss each other. But what is it
that we miss if not something we
can touch? We have built this
metaphor of emotions that are not
tangible, but yet we can feel it.

We feel it when we say you and
when we say I and when the
word love is weaved in between
the two to form a sentence that
to most would read I love you,
but to us, it remains invisible to
our naked eye…

because we cannot say it, not to
each other, it would be a lie,
because you cannot love a
metaphor.
A symbol, an image, a façade,
you cannot love a
representation of your
imagination.

You cannot hold a screenshot of
the last message that came
through when you felt lonely
and their online presence was
the only thing that comforted
you like the virtual presents
that he would send you.

You cannot kiss the text
message that reads “I want to
be with you”, as your lips part
and you read the words and
envision his lips touching yours
as you mouth the last syllable
out loud.

I close my eyes and the images that
flood my mind open the valves of
my tear ducts and the salty water
escapes and burns my cheek as it
falls to the ground, like my
emotions fall – slowly, but it makes
a loud sound.

One that makes me open
my eyes and stare at the
veil that is between us,
the veil that has become
my refuge.

I tell myself: I want more. I
need more.
That’s when reality sets in and
it feels like a knife has been
pushed through my heart as I
catch my breath and in that
moment I realize…
I AM IN LOVE WITH A METAPHOR


Slide 3

Metaphorical
Oblivion
by

The way my lips form a curve
whenever I see your name come up on
my screen as the notification goes off,
*ping*, you are online.
My heart does that thing it does, you know
that thing, where it skips a beat or a few
bars, kind of like that girl in a bar who
drank too much and fell off her heels on the
dancefloor after one too many shots of
tequil – a.

Deep down I know it’s not real, but this
metaphor is like a sandcastle that we
built in the air and not with sand
but with words and the pictures of our
days, play in my head like a film reel
and this forms our exchanges and our
conversations.

Cyber-ficial interchanges of ideas and
thoughts of what makes us tick and of
what makes us talk.
We miss each other. But what is it
that we miss if not something we
can touch? We have built this
metaphor of emotions that are not
tangible, but yet we can feel it.

We feel it when we say you and
when we say I and when the
word love is weaved in between
the two to form a sentence that
to most would read I love you,
but to us, it remains invisible to
our naked eye…

because we cannot say it, not to
each other, it would be a lie,
because you cannot love a
metaphor.
A symbol, an image, a façade,
you cannot love a
representation of your
imagination.

You cannot hold a screenshot of
the last message that came
through when you felt lonely
and their online presence was
the only thing that comforted
you like the virtual presents
that he would send you.

You cannot kiss the text
message that reads “I want to
be with you”, as your lips part
and you read the words and
envision his lips touching yours
as you mouth the last syllable
out loud.

I close my eyes and the images that
flood my mind open the valves of
my tear ducts and the salty water
escapes and burns my cheek as it
falls to the ground, like my
emotions fall – slowly, but it makes
a loud sound.

One that makes me open
my eyes and stare at the
veil that is between us,
the veil that has become
my refuge.

I tell myself: I want more. I
need more.
That’s when reality sets in and
it feels like a knife has been
pushed through my heart as I
catch my breath and in that
moment I realize…
I AM IN LOVE WITH A METAPHOR


Slide 4

Metaphorical
Oblivion
by

The way my lips form a curve
whenever I see your name come up on
my screen as the notification goes off,
*ping*, you are online.
My heart does that thing it does, you know
that thing, where it skips a beat or a few
bars, kind of like that girl in a bar who
drank too much and fell off her heels on the
dancefloor after one too many shots of
tequil – a.

Deep down I know it’s not real, but this
metaphor is like a sandcastle that we
built in the air and not with sand
but with words and the pictures of our
days, play in my head like a film reel
and this forms our exchanges and our
conversations.

Cyber-ficial interchanges of ideas and
thoughts of what makes us tick and of
what makes us talk.
We miss each other. But what is it
that we miss if not something we
can touch? We have built this
metaphor of emotions that are not
tangible, but yet we can feel it.

We feel it when we say you and
when we say I and when the
word love is weaved in between
the two to form a sentence that
to most would read I love you,
but to us, it remains invisible to
our naked eye…

because we cannot say it, not to
each other, it would be a lie,
because you cannot love a
metaphor.
A symbol, an image, a façade,
you cannot love a
representation of your
imagination.

You cannot hold a screenshot of
the last message that came
through when you felt lonely
and their online presence was
the only thing that comforted
you like the virtual presents
that he would send you.

You cannot kiss the text
message that reads “I want to
be with you”, as your lips part
and you read the words and
envision his lips touching yours
as you mouth the last syllable
out loud.

I close my eyes and the images that
flood my mind open the valves of
my tear ducts and the salty water
escapes and burns my cheek as it
falls to the ground, like my
emotions fall – slowly, but it makes
a loud sound.

One that makes me open
my eyes and stare at the
veil that is between us,
the veil that has become
my refuge.

I tell myself: I want more. I
need more.
That’s when reality sets in and
it feels like a knife has been
pushed through my heart as I
catch my breath and in that
moment I realize…
I AM IN LOVE WITH A METAPHOR


Slide 5

Metaphorical
Oblivion
by

The way my lips form a curve
whenever I see your name come up on
my screen as the notification goes off,
*ping*, you are online.
My heart does that thing it does, you know
that thing, where it skips a beat or a few
bars, kind of like that girl in a bar who
drank too much and fell off her heels on the
dancefloor after one too many shots of
tequil – a.

Deep down I know it’s not real, but this
metaphor is like a sandcastle that we
built in the air and not with sand
but with words and the pictures of our
days, play in my head like a film reel
and this forms our exchanges and our
conversations.

Cyber-ficial interchanges of ideas and
thoughts of what makes us tick and of
what makes us talk.
We miss each other. But what is it
that we miss if not something we
can touch? We have built this
metaphor of emotions that are not
tangible, but yet we can feel it.

We feel it when we say you and
when we say I and when the
word love is weaved in between
the two to form a sentence that
to most would read I love you,
but to us, it remains invisible to
our naked eye…

because we cannot say it, not to
each other, it would be a lie,
because you cannot love a
metaphor.
A symbol, an image, a façade,
you cannot love a
representation of your
imagination.

You cannot hold a screenshot of
the last message that came
through when you felt lonely
and their online presence was
the only thing that comforted
you like the virtual presents
that he would send you.

You cannot kiss the text
message that reads “I want to
be with you”, as your lips part
and you read the words and
envision his lips touching yours
as you mouth the last syllable
out loud.

I close my eyes and the images that
flood my mind open the valves of
my tear ducts and the salty water
escapes and burns my cheek as it
falls to the ground, like my
emotions fall – slowly, but it makes
a loud sound.

One that makes me open
my eyes and stare at the
veil that is between us,
the veil that has become
my refuge.

I tell myself: I want more. I
need more.
That’s when reality sets in and
it feels like a knife has been
pushed through my heart as I
catch my breath and in that
moment I realize…
I AM IN LOVE WITH A METAPHOR


Slide 6

Metaphorical
Oblivion
by

The way my lips form a curve
whenever I see your name come up on
my screen as the notification goes off,
*ping*, you are online.
My heart does that thing it does, you know
that thing, where it skips a beat or a few
bars, kind of like that girl in a bar who
drank too much and fell off her heels on the
dancefloor after one too many shots of
tequil – a.

Deep down I know it’s not real, but this
metaphor is like a sandcastle that we
built in the air and not with sand
but with words and the pictures of our
days, play in my head like a film reel
and this forms our exchanges and our
conversations.

Cyber-ficial interchanges of ideas and
thoughts of what makes us tick and of
what makes us talk.
We miss each other. But what is it
that we miss if not something we
can touch? We have built this
metaphor of emotions that are not
tangible, but yet we can feel it.

We feel it when we say you and
when we say I and when the
word love is weaved in between
the two to form a sentence that
to most would read I love you,
but to us, it remains invisible to
our naked eye…

because we cannot say it, not to
each other, it would be a lie,
because you cannot love a
metaphor.
A symbol, an image, a façade,
you cannot love a
representation of your
imagination.

You cannot hold a screenshot of
the last message that came
through when you felt lonely
and their online presence was
the only thing that comforted
you like the virtual presents
that he would send you.

You cannot kiss the text
message that reads “I want to
be with you”, as your lips part
and you read the words and
envision his lips touching yours
as you mouth the last syllable
out loud.

I close my eyes and the images that
flood my mind open the valves of
my tear ducts and the salty water
escapes and burns my cheek as it
falls to the ground, like my
emotions fall – slowly, but it makes
a loud sound.

One that makes me open
my eyes and stare at the
veil that is between us,
the veil that has become
my refuge.

I tell myself: I want more. I
need more.
That’s when reality sets in and
it feels like a knife has been
pushed through my heart as I
catch my breath and in that
moment I realize…
I AM IN LOVE WITH A METAPHOR


Slide 7

Metaphorical
Oblivion
by

The way my lips form a curve
whenever I see your name come up on
my screen as the notification goes off,
*ping*, you are online.
My heart does that thing it does, you know
that thing, where it skips a beat or a few
bars, kind of like that girl in a bar who
drank too much and fell off her heels on the
dancefloor after one too many shots of
tequil – a.

Deep down I know it’s not real, but this
metaphor is like a sandcastle that we
built in the air and not with sand
but with words and the pictures of our
days, play in my head like a film reel
and this forms our exchanges and our
conversations.

Cyber-ficial interchanges of ideas and
thoughts of what makes us tick and of
what makes us talk.
We miss each other. But what is it
that we miss if not something we
can touch? We have built this
metaphor of emotions that are not
tangible, but yet we can feel it.

We feel it when we say you and
when we say I and when the
word love is weaved in between
the two to form a sentence that
to most would read I love you,
but to us, it remains invisible to
our naked eye…

because we cannot say it, not to
each other, it would be a lie,
because you cannot love a
metaphor.
A symbol, an image, a façade,
you cannot love a
representation of your
imagination.

You cannot hold a screenshot of
the last message that came
through when you felt lonely
and their online presence was
the only thing that comforted
you like the virtual presents
that he would send you.

You cannot kiss the text
message that reads “I want to
be with you”, as your lips part
and you read the words and
envision his lips touching yours
as you mouth the last syllable
out loud.

I close my eyes and the images that
flood my mind open the valves of
my tear ducts and the salty water
escapes and burns my cheek as it
falls to the ground, like my
emotions fall – slowly, but it makes
a loud sound.

One that makes me open
my eyes and stare at the
veil that is between us,
the veil that has become
my refuge.

I tell myself: I want more. I
need more.
That’s when reality sets in and
it feels like a knife has been
pushed through my heart as I
catch my breath and in that
moment I realize…
I AM IN LOVE WITH A METAPHOR


Slide 8

Metaphorical
Oblivion
by

The way my lips form a curve
whenever I see your name come up on
my screen as the notification goes off,
*ping*, you are online.
My heart does that thing it does, you know
that thing, where it skips a beat or a few
bars, kind of like that girl in a bar who
drank too much and fell off her heels on the
dancefloor after one too many shots of
tequil – a.

Deep down I know it’s not real, but this
metaphor is like a sandcastle that we
built in the air and not with sand
but with words and the pictures of our
days, play in my head like a film reel
and this forms our exchanges and our
conversations.

Cyber-ficial interchanges of ideas and
thoughts of what makes us tick and of
what makes us talk.
We miss each other. But what is it
that we miss if not something we
can touch? We have built this
metaphor of emotions that are not
tangible, but yet we can feel it.

We feel it when we say you and
when we say I and when the
word love is weaved in between
the two to form a sentence that
to most would read I love you,
but to us, it remains invisible to
our naked eye…

because we cannot say it, not to
each other, it would be a lie,
because you cannot love a
metaphor.
A symbol, an image, a façade,
you cannot love a
representation of your
imagination.

You cannot hold a screenshot of
the last message that came
through when you felt lonely
and their online presence was
the only thing that comforted
you like the virtual presents
that he would send you.

You cannot kiss the text
message that reads “I want to
be with you”, as your lips part
and you read the words and
envision his lips touching yours
as you mouth the last syllable
out loud.

I close my eyes and the images that
flood my mind open the valves of
my tear ducts and the salty water
escapes and burns my cheek as it
falls to the ground, like my
emotions fall – slowly, but it makes
a loud sound.

One that makes me open
my eyes and stare at the
veil that is between us,
the veil that has become
my refuge.

I tell myself: I want more. I
need more.
That’s when reality sets in and
it feels like a knife has been
pushed through my heart as I
catch my breath and in that
moment I realize…
I AM IN LOVE WITH A METAPHOR


Slide 9

Metaphorical
Oblivion
by

The way my lips form a curve
whenever I see your name come up on
my screen as the notification goes off,
*ping*, you are online.
My heart does that thing it does, you know
that thing, where it skips a beat or a few
bars, kind of like that girl in a bar who
drank too much and fell off her heels on the
dancefloor after one too many shots of
tequil – a.

Deep down I know it’s not real, but this
metaphor is like a sandcastle that we
built in the air and not with sand
but with words and the pictures of our
days, play in my head like a film reel
and this forms our exchanges and our
conversations.

Cyber-ficial interchanges of ideas and
thoughts of what makes us tick and of
what makes us talk.
We miss each other. But what is it
that we miss if not something we
can touch? We have built this
metaphor of emotions that are not
tangible, but yet we can feel it.

We feel it when we say you and
when we say I and when the
word love is weaved in between
the two to form a sentence that
to most would read I love you,
but to us, it remains invisible to
our naked eye…

because we cannot say it, not to
each other, it would be a lie,
because you cannot love a
metaphor.
A symbol, an image, a façade,
you cannot love a
representation of your
imagination.

You cannot hold a screenshot of
the last message that came
through when you felt lonely
and their online presence was
the only thing that comforted
you like the virtual presents
that he would send you.

You cannot kiss the text
message that reads “I want to
be with you”, as your lips part
and you read the words and
envision his lips touching yours
as you mouth the last syllable
out loud.

I close my eyes and the images that
flood my mind open the valves of
my tear ducts and the salty water
escapes and burns my cheek as it
falls to the ground, like my
emotions fall – slowly, but it makes
a loud sound.

One that makes me open
my eyes and stare at the
veil that is between us,
the veil that has become
my refuge.

I tell myself: I want more. I
need more.
That’s when reality sets in and
it feels like a knife has been
pushed through my heart as I
catch my breath and in that
moment I realize…
I AM IN LOVE WITH A METAPHOR


Slide 10

Metaphorical
Oblivion
by

The way my lips form a curve
whenever I see your name come up on
my screen as the notification goes off,
*ping*, you are online.
My heart does that thing it does, you know
that thing, where it skips a beat or a few
bars, kind of like that girl in a bar who
drank too much and fell off her heels on the
dancefloor after one too many shots of
tequil – a.

Deep down I know it’s not real, but this
metaphor is like a sandcastle that we
built in the air and not with sand
but with words and the pictures of our
days, play in my head like a film reel
and this forms our exchanges and our
conversations.

Cyber-ficial interchanges of ideas and
thoughts of what makes us tick and of
what makes us talk.
We miss each other. But what is it
that we miss if not something we
can touch? We have built this
metaphor of emotions that are not
tangible, but yet we can feel it.

We feel it when we say you and
when we say I and when the
word love is weaved in between
the two to form a sentence that
to most would read I love you,
but to us, it remains invisible to
our naked eye…

because we cannot say it, not to
each other, it would be a lie,
because you cannot love a
metaphor.
A symbol, an image, a façade,
you cannot love a
representation of your
imagination.

You cannot hold a screenshot of
the last message that came
through when you felt lonely
and their online presence was
the only thing that comforted
you like the virtual presents
that he would send you.

You cannot kiss the text
message that reads “I want to
be with you”, as your lips part
and you read the words and
envision his lips touching yours
as you mouth the last syllable
out loud.

I close my eyes and the images that
flood my mind open the valves of
my tear ducts and the salty water
escapes and burns my cheek as it
falls to the ground, like my
emotions fall – slowly, but it makes
a loud sound.

One that makes me open
my eyes and stare at the
veil that is between us,
the veil that has become
my refuge.

I tell myself: I want more. I
need more.
That’s when reality sets in and
it feels like a knife has been
pushed through my heart as I
catch my breath and in that
moment I realize…
I AM IN LOVE WITH A METAPHOR


Slide 11

Metaphorical
Oblivion
by

The way my lips form a curve
whenever I see your name come up on
my screen as the notification goes off,
*ping*, you are online.
My heart does that thing it does, you know
that thing, where it skips a beat or a few
bars, kind of like that girl in a bar who
drank too much and fell off her heels on the
dancefloor after one too many shots of
tequil – a.

Deep down I know it’s not real, but this
metaphor is like a sandcastle that we
built in the air and not with sand
but with words and the pictures of our
days, play in my head like a film reel
and this forms our exchanges and our
conversations.

Cyber-ficial interchanges of ideas and
thoughts of what makes us tick and of
what makes us talk.
We miss each other. But what is it
that we miss if not something we
can touch? We have built this
metaphor of emotions that are not
tangible, but yet we can feel it.

We feel it when we say you and
when we say I and when the
word love is weaved in between
the two to form a sentence that
to most would read I love you,
but to us, it remains invisible to
our naked eye…

because we cannot say it, not to
each other, it would be a lie,
because you cannot love a
metaphor.
A symbol, an image, a façade,
you cannot love a
representation of your
imagination.

You cannot hold a screenshot of
the last message that came
through when you felt lonely
and their online presence was
the only thing that comforted
you like the virtual presents
that he would send you.

You cannot kiss the text
message that reads “I want to
be with you”, as your lips part
and you read the words and
envision his lips touching yours
as you mouth the last syllable
out loud.

I close my eyes and the images that
flood my mind open the valves of
my tear ducts and the salty water
escapes and burns my cheek as it
falls to the ground, like my
emotions fall – slowly, but it makes
a loud sound.

One that makes me open
my eyes and stare at the
veil that is between us,
the veil that has become
my refuge.

I tell myself: I want more. I
need more.
That’s when reality sets in and
it feels like a knife has been
pushed through my heart as I
catch my breath and in that
moment I realize…
I AM IN LOVE WITH A METAPHOR