the sometimes lover

and so ends another year. the 4th quarter yearly cycle of dinners, sex and christmas presents with you is like a dance floor ritual. we keep waltzing, changing partners, till we reach each other. we dance for awhile and then it’s goodbye again, till the next year end comes.

it’s a somewhat almost perfect arrangement, in a askewed kind of way. i guess we won’t grow sick of each other or sleep behind each other’s backs this way. but then technically, we are sleeping behind somebody’s back right? oh the irony of this wicked circle we draw ourselves into.

 so… this year end? same place, same time then?

-we are scientist: nobody moves, nobody gets hurt-

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