Intruige

Things have become muddy. Fast.

Faster than most may have predicted given the laiseez faire persona we both candidly embody.
'Between the sheets' evolved to the lofty sweet nothings whispered in my ear as we lay...

unable to sleep until all was quenched.

We quickly forgoed the customary public renouncement; silently choosing instead to slip gentle hellos and secretive smiles amist the unspoken ethos that surronds us.

What occurs after dusk is long erased from our composure by dawn, but the smirks alone are enough to prosecute us as truly guilty.

Yet our enjoyable lucidity has been jaded by confusion, dilusion, and mistaken ideas of grandeur, which at best is presumptuous; worst, "dissapointing". The natural inclination to aspire to something, albeit, truly wanting nothing but enjoyment and security to fully dive in....

Alas, our playing fields of preference are off the richter and there seems to be no mutual ground for reconsideration.