Tired of not...

Then there was the apology. And you come again and again, return unproblematically, making me love you all over again, making me tired.

Your touch, your hands on my body, gently and almost invisible, making me shiver in a way I neverever... I want to be there again, in the moment where tomorrow didn't exist, returning to us, in that bed.

You and me, the sun makes us weary, there on the balkony that day in August. I'm warm and you hold me, tightly. You ask me what I want to do and we both know that the answer is already given. Last night didn't offer much sleep, no rest, only passion which leaks through the sheets, the walls, breasts and skin. The only thing I want, need, is you, all over again... and again. You've never been more soft and I love you forever in that moment. We're too tired, yes, but our bodies live their own lives, magnetical. And right there I don't want a future, don't want to know of other times, only want to be there and live the passion (be the passion), live the dream with you.

And when I'm alone now, I'm doing it and you're here with me again. I'm back in your arms, close to you, the sun is shining on the balcony and you're asking me what I want to do. We're the only ones in the world, in the room, in your bed - and suddenly you're not far away, and the time hasn't passed at all.