We never wanted to write a love story
we never needed a romantic allegory
it wasn't any grandiose revelation
but rather a gradual flirtation
not a tale of love, but lust
not a matter of thought, but ******
and on that fact we were content
nothing more intended, nothing more meant
but then why do you stare with lingering eyes
and I find myself swooning over your thighs
and why does this loneliness keep
when night after night in my arms you sleep
how do I manage to stay so cold
when you are here inside my hold
but we suppressed all that kindling
and in turn found our passion dwindling
we began to find hate in it's place
for we had grown tired of this chase
“How could you not act on this feeling?”
we thought of each other, eyes at the ceiling
and we go to sleep, for another day
side by side, but worlds away