Slow as the day goes by. I try and wake up only to find myself back in the slumber. It is a foot away and still I manage. My ears ring with sound of the leaves rustling I am awake at last only to find myself missing. It is quite ambivalent but also abit promiscuous, when something is missing it tells a story and leaves a mark. We talk about lies in the bedroom. Outside ourselves we leave the sheets red and that spoils the fun. But atleast we were there.
