Silence is status quo and of course, you should know, my love, the best in the business of building glaciers and chopping calm waters.
You are so desperate that you put your faith in chance.
Chances and fates and whims and wishes will take you where you are desperate to go.
And everything else will follow.
You believe you're here for love but the room is too large for you.
The distance is too much. And you need to touch. Albeit not strange as such.
The ice in my heart and yours has traveled to our inner core and we make angry cold sex and that's as lonely as it gets.
A victim of circumstance.
A prisoner with the key.
A seeker with a roadmap.
But you don't seek or wish for or desire me.
