And as I get lost in surreal daydreaming, longing for your love and lust triggers sweetest appeal to be utterly dangerously pleasing. I think in flashes of slow songs of sensual ****** moments caught in minds designed camera. most images seen through lenses of eyes capture common pictures in black and white while others exhale a sequence of vivid moving memories in most extravagant  clarity and of colors. Like something could dig up my freshly buried time capsules of unwanted and untrusting memories. That I could truly give in to rejecting anxieties.  That night I looked down from the balcony that seems to romeo and Juliet cliché, considering restricted consequences through our eyes locking as minds synapses sync and confirmed risky behaviors that day. I had a trusting instinct about who I thought you were and who you could be. You didn’t want to open up  my legs but  instead led you to my hearts hidden pathway. When your green eyes exposed innocence through talks of hardships and hardest times my heart was tempted to flirt with ideas that you could be mine in future days. But the past only digs up skeletons of your shame
and retrieves relapses and regret working in harmony as old habits become clearly apparently easy to blame. And so we fought like a couple that night. And so badly these feelings I have wanted to fight. But life has ways of keeping your surprised. And gray areas surface like the smoke of being exhaled in your mind. Like a weight around your heart and selfish wishes reside. where others are hurt and  rightful confessions unpleasantly surprise. Where lines are unrightfully drawn but not distinctly determined who's to blame and who's the reliable side. Thinking there are two sides to every story but third party is truth and thinking in a reliable way. What if the two stories coincide and both people are most important in your life and your thinking you’ve been cursed with never doing anything convenient or right. What if I told you I would give up this feeling of dependency chemically with another body, but this choice isn’t an option because the heart wants what it does and it will always overpower minds strong intuitions of being emotionally robbed blind.  And these butterflies floating away in my stomach with wings of woven colors constantly changing like mood rings confirm readiness to give into hearts fight. Away from always being caught in nets like childish games people  like to play and leave shoulders heavy from others burdens disposed of into heartbreaking piles. And thinking of deceiving leaves heart in a fluttering type to its rhythm’s beating. And so sounds of your own drum begin being heard over muffled requests as recognition of what it means to really be not only be hearing, but truly listening.