Seventy One

I have been addicted—slowly addicted—at the thought and the idea of wasting all my youth and ponder what the next step is. If falling deep is what it took to get you in close proximity at all costs, I would have done it ages ago. Surely this can't be the end of all my tomorrows with you. If I can spend my whole life thinking the what-ifs, I would do it, even if it is something that you wouldn't want me to do. Because you wouldn't want me thinking for too long, and it is something I ironically appreciate. A trap somewhere in between the lines, a liaison amplified with lust and desire, and to be somewhere private, and be completely alone with the thought of you inside my head, is something that's all I can ask for. A barrage of memories and a steady raft containing what remains of you are some of the things I dare to keep for a long time.