Can't give one all the intimacy one wants. Not like this. Not this way.
Wonder if the time itself is taking its toll on duet. Or just an illusion.
One feels connected. Because one who gets all the "connections". Here. Apart. It's eating my heart out for everything. One.
When one is given all the connections whatever it means to one, one assumes both are on steady lines. Everything stable. Everything is cooler than one's shirt's color one's wearing. Beautiful than the garden at one's own backyard. As smooth as one's girlfriends' satin dresses one picks up at the nightclub.
In my case. Tells different tale.
Let one be asked. Are these all well, rosy, eye-candy than one thinks they are? What about another one's deep-down, hidden emotions? Does one even give a shit?
Makes me skeptical. Does one ever wonder any possibility? Any possibility at all.
I doubt it.
None.
Again. My patience infinitely unreachable.
Second doubts.
Yeah. Keep on doing that. It only means my passion for one.
Sometimes. One is there. Sometimes. One isn't there at all.
"Oh, you are on honeymoon! Glad I'm not joining."
I remedy myself.
Never tell me reasons why.
Only joining another honeymooner.