Let’s just say we make love.
Once, twice, thrice a day.
Even more, even less.
But do they mean anything to you?
The stroke of whoever fingers on the back
The sweet tender words whispered through our necks
The gentle tap on whoever shoulder
Let’s just say I have enough of that
Yet I yearn for more
Let’s just pretend we never endure deeper than that
Yet we constantly, religiously, and tremenduously embark on it all the time
Maybe you never get to experience our sensuous sessions
You go for quickies, I go for embraces
I think I tickled your senses.
PS: what would it be if I kissed you back at that time? Will it be a greater love than ours? Will it be an eternal regret?