Our fates are intertwined. We are enclosed in this chamber. With just the right amount of oxygen. We will last right until we collapse into each other. It's as if the universe is conspiring for us to merge.
Your roving eyes. Those nimble movements. A glimpse of your flesh from between buttons. My stealthy eyes. Arm hair, warm breath, your outstanding voice. Getting dissolved in the everlasting noise, yet filtering out.
Again your eyes. Their roving fijacion on me. What a live contradiction, this. We humble ageing bodies, don't even deserve love of this kind no more. We have had our times, back in the day. Long tortuous years.
Love, like a person has aged right with me. It is about five years older than me, rather. Whatever age I am in, love is exactly half a decade older. Now I am thirty. And love should be thirty five.
But aloha. Love is suddenly eighteen, even thirteen, when you're around. Some Benjamin Button phenomenon this.
Your shiny ignorance, my colorless past. Both us folks have had exams, degrees, jobs, loves. Movies, songs and books. Many many infatuations like each other. But all in the past. Hell, we don't even deserve each other, vide our separate justified rationales. But fuck rationale. Why is this even happening now. Oh.