He gave me a heart-shaped box of chocolates,
filled with lifesaver gummy rings and gummy worms.
He's an attentive listener, something I like.

I gave him a rectangle-shaped box of chocolates,
didn't opt for the heart. Hid a note inside instead.

We held hands, shared laughs, hugged,
and kissed.

We kissed until our lips became swollen.
Even after that, we kissed.
We kissed like we meant it,
even if that wasn't the case.

There was no case to be proven, in fact.

My lips feverishly pressed against his
his fingers with precision traced every contour of my back.

A hidden intention, displayed for each eye their own to see.

A cold February night
out in the open
exposed and caught within
the contaminated air
of plastic romance.

Breathing became essential.

Bliss.
Bliss.
Maroon
crimson
ignorant
bliss.

His heart beat against the brick wall
my swerving thoughts by this point muted.

Poles apart,
Lost for words.

Was it love? no.
But he held me as if it were
and I caressed him as if I knew it.

Words seemed foreign
Body language is all we had left.
It's not as if it were the end,
but it does no harm to pretend.

The drinks from the night before,
series of books read after that,
none of that mattered there and then.

In the midst of intertwine,
throughout the sighs of make-believe,
we were just two golden fools
content with the obsolete of Roman rules.