When my fingers dance on your skin, their nerves itch to close my hand to lock you up. But that will mean suffocation, and it is not part of the reason we arrived here or the cause to end this. Out of the formal papers and strings of legal advice, we did not shake hands or exchanged nods, but with wet lips and sensual ceremonies of our sinful bodies we demonstrated the lustful arrangement. Halfway, or nowadays, after just a few weeks, I begin to crave for a new desire. As deep as the thoughts we carry without speaking about, or as endless as the universe above the mankind. Sometimes when you sleep, I want to kill that lungs of yours or pray that you never wake up; so I can restlessly watch you. I want to lock the door and throw away the keys; to wait until we turn into flesh-killing humans. So long as I get to have my death with you. But I do not say this out loud when I know it will rattle your feet to run away. And to make up for the lost dignity, there is a small space for a soft force in my heart, wanting to apologize for all these fantasies.
WORD COUNT: 210
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