I still remember the sound of our silence
Our breath wrestling each other
Your fluid sweet as morning dew
with our minds beckoning to conquer.
Our tangled atoms our flushed skins
Your gentle brush leaving scars to my slippery lip
A gaze I have become familiar with
while we strip each other's soul naked.
Each of our quanta we left in the room
they are now lurking.
Tons of questions on how we are going to end this unbearable desires are taunting.
Yet now the glass is half empty. And I feel like filling it with absinthe from another muse.
