In this hand-crafted spring of banality and failure, comes a tragically short tale of the uncreative sort.
Though it is rather, sensual.
You too, Na?
Is it you who’s sitting at the edge of that bed?
The curves, hair, and skin resemble you.
And the smell. Your smell intoxicates the air with every silent whiff.
I know it’s you, dear Na.
So please, if you could be so kind as to lend your ear to my question.
I’m only intrigued. That’s all.
And also stirred.