“friends don’t kiss friends.”
picking up the quill, she writes in the leather journal:
and this is how our story began.
stumbling into the unknown, together
feeding off the lust
living on the pretence
the line between lust and love
tell me, how does this ends?
the quill now back to it’s rightful place.
her smile falters, but only just for a fraction
before glancing at
the beautiful man sleeping soundly.