The chance of merging life with another’s again,

Or the ability to let myself soar free, letting this new world consume me as a whole

Discovering oneself in this sexual utopia, taboo’d by society, but worshiped by those who divulge into it.

Tell me muse, how long shall our inspirations bounce off each other?

Does he know of our moments caught in time?

Should he be told of this documented energy?

It’s so new, so fresh, do I just abandon it here on the side of the road, or walk arm in arm down the starlit gravel highway.

Now there, there…

Hush young child, photographs are meant to be seen, not heard.