Today is the third time in a row that I had to substitute the tyre bands of my car for rushing pass red lights for you, leaving a screeching sound behind to hang in the balance, while you were pertaining your carnality in front of him right in time before I'd get to your house.
The anticipation, all the doubt, I knew it had to be lurking in the crooks and spaces for a reason.
I was too concerned about your topsy-turvy than I was about my own turmoil, that I am now stuck with screeches (harder than the sound of my car wheels piercing over the tar road) inside of my head crying out your name in highlighting rhythms.
Everytime you wrapped your arms around my neck, it felt as soft as my favourite woollen scarf, but differed from my scent; Yes, it was his body spray diffusing through my nostrils in waves.
I don't know how you managed to latch these locks to my eyes,
I don't know how I couldn't manage to look pass your facade.
The other day still, we met not face to face, but eye to eye in the grocery store, and you walk right pass me.
I don't understand how someone I used to know so well, are now just a strager to me.
