terça-feira, 4 de agosto de 2009
Why must beauty always come with an antidote for my desire? Why must we seldom see each other roaming these grey streets, never to touch, never to bump, never to know if ‘we’ could be ‘us’? Why must we be prisioners of not knowing, strangers of odd starings? And yet you willingly undress for me, in the most vulgar way – for we know it’ll be quick, no matter how slow we walk. Until one day we’ll crash. The impact will be so strong, it’ll shatter our ground, it’ll explode our existence. We might even say “sorry”, and then walk away. Forever changed.