my life.

the nights always seem to go in the same direction, following the same plot like a worn-out song, repeated indefinitely, forgotten in some turning point, spending time here and there and in the morning you will be all that is left, all over the room, all over our bodies, all over our memories, together with sweated sheets, cuddling pillows, heavy tea drinking, chocolate tasting sessions, honey all over ourselves, short periods of sleep after long periods of pure delight, dawn whispering about sharing life emotions and experiences, small sips of wine, muzzak, capricious demands, weird unspoken thoughts, fierce order, laughing without reason or purpose, cheap filled cookies with intense flavour, rolling on each other, flip flapping and slip sliding.

my life is just a porn movie with pretty songs.