understatement

We exist only in each other's arms,
as the world flies away, dustily,
mirror image memories of longing fingers and salty lips.

A long ride,
to the edge of reason and back,
to where convention will always bring us.

The choice was made
practicality over passion,
chance over design.
In other words, status quo.

Someday it may actually be expedient to love,
and our stolen,
intermittent meetings
will be cute.

We've been pessimistic, you know;
uncharacteristically so.

We did not meet by chance,
don't fool yourself,
The serendipity was all engineered.

What held us back?
Till you have the answer,
I am free, to love you,
incorrigibly.