I THINK I HEARD YOU SINGING THE REFRAIN. Didn't we say it was strictly ours? Remember? Due to its exact description of ourselves, it basically belonged to us; so lyrically it could actually hurt. Why do you still humming it? Why don't we let this ship sail itself? I dive into the memory just like a scuba diver who faces a rough, billowy sea. To be frank, I cannot help thinking about the intimate cafuné after the goodwill and sex. Or even worse, the sudden gaze you threw at me while we were in our road-trip; dooming my instincts to bite the rim of your lips and put my hand on your crotch good-naturedly. This feeling is dragging me onto the fierce waves. I guess I'm sunk now.
Nevertheless, it wasn't all my fault. I grasped that you were unready, so did I. So unready to heal that raw yet lenient wound we both had. You showed your worst visage, the muted fight between your demons and you. You showed me the complex side of your insecurities that perhaps, in an undercover way, they increased your defeat. Even in your brightest moments they were there wandering on the tip of your cruel torpor. We thought we could conquer the world. You could run away or you could simply be mine. You, in fact, just like a deathblow chose the very first without even shuffling a deck of tricky cards; in case you care, being randomly discarded it would have been nicer.
Angels didn't reply last night's plea. I decided to take an alleyway, I prayed to the devil instead. It was, without hesitation, an instant response. He promised me to diminish this unease. He promised calm the tide. Meet me there; meet me in the low tide.
