The lazy couple making love near the window. His hands caress the belt loops and curves. The knotted material of emotions hollow within, Twinkle orbs surround the wooden sky.
Splinter Soup We sit in the park on this old rickety bench, And you say how much our friendship has meant. That on all levels except marriage we do connect.
This is when you fall in lust and your heart beats to a new tempo, often not your own and then you realise that maybe at this time you really can't move to that rhythm so you have to stop.