Dilemma
I hesitated, for I was not sure of our return, together, from this journey across your skin. Our lively whispers, which had once blossomed nights of sibilant brooks, were spent, sprouting abattoirs where words bled memories dry. The streets, which had pursued us till they got entangled with the creases of our palms, the facades, which had spied upon us as we kissed under the neon lights, seemed hallucinations of the fornicated flesh. Sleep, which had once slurred the distance between our dreams and had plaited our limbs, lies undone. Now on this trip time had traveled on and had left me with a zipper, that was stuck midway of a long thread of breath. I let go, for I knew I had become a fossilized memory of your flesh.