So here we lie in our bed of lies but really it’s just a couch in an overheated dorm room. We try to alleviate the aroma of our sin by opening a window, letting the breeze of conscience in. It tousles my hair, but yours lies flat.  It cools the sweat on our bodies and the heat of our action. In a moment what was pleasure has turned into shame. I become awkward and wish the courage liquid provided me hadn’t worn off. I notice my naked body in a way I didn’t before. I suddenly want to cover up; I’m embarrassed in front of you. We delved into the initial sin, letting lust be our next. Now we’ve conquered lust and made it our own. But what happens next? Naked bodies, afraid to touch, realizing that the other doesn’t belong to us.  It’s still warm in here although the breeze is cooling. Your body is cold and in return so are my words. Awkward silence, each to our own thought. The quickest escape? I can read your mind. I throw you your clothes. We hesitate a goodbye kiss. Goodbye had meant nothing before this. Your face is red, your hair a mess. You leave in a hurry and I’m all too relieved. With the door shut behind you I return to the instigator of our lying bed. Which is really just a couch. Enough liquid: to give me the courage, to ignore the shame, to do it again.