The feeling blossomed in the impossible orgasm that was a heartbeat,

And sometimes we beat as one with synergy and sympathy that could rival this week’s endless and reckless stupor.

The vespas came and went, provided so much and returned with very little but we still drove on into the night,

And how baring an augmented charm, we swooped and swooned until the midnight tourists were won over,

And how we won them over trying to kick-start, but just rolling and fondling our way into agreement with our nonsense innocence and impossible bravery,

And how we talked and went up, the four of us make wet and view the rounding horizon in a sobering moment, taking each other and refusing to give back,

And how, in our solitary moments, we were not our silly names but sinking further deeper.

Longingful gazes,

Bashful phrases.

Feigning disinterest and indifference, but, as bright as the first day, knowing and showing more.

Full of prospects and full of life we glimpse the future and return to our usual sobriety.

Guilty hope slides in and out of gear like the vespa heavily returned to its rightful ground after failing the ignition and relying on downwards straights.

And how we held hands till the sunset came tempting and promising the sunrise,

And how the sunrise could burn the horizon in time for my return

And how this feeling could blossom into an impossible orgasm that is our heartbeat.

Escape this fantasy - reality seeks the truth.

I’ve never felt so involved.
so incharge of my own future!

it’s scary to think that what I do now
may make me hiccup in three years time!