Bathsheeba looked at me with Medusa's eyes. And I, falling under a spell, kissed like Judas. We made love like it was war. We gave it all like there was no tomorrow - for indeed, there was none...
As with guilt arising from every consumated lust, the gift of bliss was entwined with postcoital curse. Heaven left a bitter after taste.
"There is no 'One Heaven' and happiness is always relative", she whispered knowingly.I need not be told the painful truth.
"And so we moved in hopeless pursuit. We dream and build, then dream anew - heaven always changing with us."
Bedroom talk with pregnant mind...same unsettling effects with hangover from too much wine...and whine!
I breathed a sigh and she asked why. Then I was Peter who denied three times...
There seems to be a lesson to be learned here. Unfortunately, they're lost on the crumpled sheets...
Bathsheeba felt betrayed...she flew out of the window.
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