“You are such a sin”: she told me,
“All you make me want is oh so wrong
but I cannot help wanting it”
I craved for her to hold me,
to caress me, touch me for so long
For I could not help wanting it.
This is not happy ever-after
This isn’t Mister and Misses Right.
This isn’t a disaster
This is just… tonight.
And though the decibels of our desirous discourse
may cry unto the stars
of our disenchanted, disenfranchised moment
When the dawn comes we will dissipate in due course
walk away without any scars
Just the memories of our blissful, ignorant escapement.
This is not a love affair
This is not eternal truth
This is not truth-or-dare
This is just… raising the roof.