the freckle on your lip holds more truth than a thousand monasteries. the way you place a finger on my lips and our eyes lock. your tongue, the way it rhythmically moves against me, it doesn't lie. in that moment when words aren't necessary and body language is our preferred median of communication, then and there nothing gets lost in translation. i am true to you because you're real to me. this is real to me, so real to me. what are the chances? what were the chances. for us to get our chance. for us to have a chance. for us to fuck with fate. for us to say fuck luck. for us to tempt life, and make what we want from it. get what we want from it. make it ours in our own way in all ways, always.... and that's the only plan, our unplanned plan.