Two bodies intertwine to be one soul. You and she explore every curve that hasn’t been carved. Both of you are the sculptors, sculpting on each other flaws. Physical acceptance is what you both tame from the beginning. It flows well. Yet, the conversation of those eyes is out of intonation. Leads to perform old war. That tender hand begins to abuse God’s magnum opus, the sculpture. More aesthetic flaws divine it. Scratches and bruises. After one whole day as it feels like one decade of hell, you both doubt that love can bring infinite elation. Silent moment fills the room. Wisdom whispers in melodically rhymes. Suddenly, the man cracks the moment.




He asks “How are you? (I know you’re thinking of something. Tell me)”

She answers “I’m fine. (I wonder if this is love or lust.)”