What can YOU say in six sentences?
Our intertwined flesh, pressed and molded together, had been worth the risk of consumption. Sunday Morning Memory: A moment to cherish now consisting of fracture pieces -- an optical illusion -- an oasis of deceit. Her face replaces mine in those memories -- that perky little blonde thing skipping down your stairs, lightly passing me by, completely unaware of the existence of you and I. Sunday Evening: The Burden of Knowledge. Her Sunday Mornings spent wrapped in your arms remains protected -- a thing of beauty -- and begins a relationship by default. I take myself out of the equation for your offer of non-exclusivity is unacceptable to my heart.