It is when you build something
step by step,
a home of unlived stories,
that the speed of light
is equal in each room.
The labour of
young bashful days of love,
culminates into something
nonreturnable.
Untasted, untouched
the home of cards
where falling apart
is an intimate truth.
I never tire of your ways with me,
as compelling as a half read story,
and how always one whole session of love
ends with my heart turning into
crumbled plastic sheets lying on the kitchen floor.