I take her soft and soothing yet equally startled hand again
And I start to lie
Like no-one’s known business in fact
That back-track

I have been cheating and, safe to say, she feels it all and by way of the bitter-sweet divide between here and her

I try my damned damnedest to murmur midst high-end bouts of possible vitriol and sly kinds of utter embarrassment
Suddenly admitting that she is a real creature of wondrous wonder aside constant creation, but that neither can she be my real creature anymore

While the other predisposed woman, younger and filled with a larger lust for a justifiable life, a brand new woman with all that I will need for now, holds the truest case for me to leave and to not live with her from here on in til the end of days

Heartbreak, all shook up with no real place to go, she seems to be swimming out of her own depth again

How’s about we play at rewind, my dearest Julia?

See, I took her away from a shy, silent and whispering town as far back a yonder as when the nonsensical things made undeniably juvenile sense again
And placed her in a sullenly set situation that dealt with nothing but nervous bargaining’s
All of it all of the time

But, no less invigorated, on we would stride
Like permitted people, regardless of these pitiful naysayers with corrupt time on their constant sides

Yet, she shall have to perhaps stop herself in her own tracks for a crucifying moment again
And to let herself wonder but what might these particular people permit themselves to say right about now?

That they knew it full well, and that they had felt it all of the time
That one person was never quite right for the other – these violent Chinese whimpering’s rather than hidden whispers so it seems to be the case in wrongful point

The truth will always out
These rumours were reckless indeed

And she suddenly attempts to take her emptied hand away in grabbing at a fishbowl-sized glass of Spanish red wine
Which will meet itself midst complete confusion with the piercing collision of her glistening wedding ring

Her favourite sensation in the whole milder world was this wine
And turns her silent mind away for now
Utterly lost and agonised within by a crestfallen kind of feeling which screams inside

Attempting to remain constantly composed, albeit completely shattered by these incorrect behaving’s
Of mine – impossible to run back in time, let alone to turn it on its toes of continual betrayal

I have to lean in and to simply ask her this one final thing, but will she begin to feed upon this endless aggression or move herself on to a far better time of comfortable surrounds wherein sweet mercy abounds by way of one woman’s willingness to amount again

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