She called it lust. I spelled it L I B E R A T I O N. We kissed softly, reminding ourselves of who we belonged to, but remembering that this moment, at least, was ours alone.
We let our clothes tangle on the bed, the floor, and all about us, if only it means that our hearts will fold perfectly when we throb into each other, and share the foul tastes of this world within blinks of the twilight dawn.
When she wakes up, I'll be gone.
At least I have loved her, if only for a night.
At least I'll be able to say, I once lived in spite of who I was, and who I will be forever more.