I feel an irritating tick     in the back of my head.
A ghost whispers your name in my ear,        with urgency and a
fierce persistence. I crave to drink in our        silence as we intertwine in
warm thick sheets. We would stay in our         own world, where we only have
each other and we live without food or water.         United we don't even come
up for air. Instead, we live off each          others sweet sweat which is more
than enough to sustain life on this          musky afternoon. Together we are
transparently aware of our selfishness in       each other but can't seem
to pry ourselves apart. As Life would          be, however, you haven't
called and if you did what        would I say. I'd rather
live as a figure in         this still life than find
out       that it can't come
true.