One

It's hard to control feelings.
Harder when you're lonely.
Hardest when your only aim Is to lock them behind doors, just the way they're sealed to preserve cries of profanities and moanful nights.

Preservation doesn't happen. It never did; for the walls themselves spoke out the scratches she's laid on my body, the kisses I've planted on hers...

And the touches we both exchanged.

Which is why once your heart overhears those whispers, it's not tamed anymore.

It's wild...

That little rebel right there committed the only crime it knew mattered...
.
.
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Loneliness