We are all closet lesbians.

Ever had a song running continuously through your head whilst in the midst of something?

"Now, I don't want to lose you, but I don't want to use you, just to have somebody by my side.And I don't want to hate you, I don't want to take you, but I don't want to be the one to cry."

Not a catchy song, nor a hit in the charts, but a song that runs deeper than it seems. Deafening like a siren, of warning, of forebode, an omen of the worst sorts. Words of that melody do not fit seamlessly into the context, yet hinting of something far more explosive.

Do you plunge in it, regardless its depth, ignoring the disclaimer staring straight back at you?

Do you pause to think, or blame it on something that's totally within your control?

Is it for the thrill, or is it to prove the fact that you live only once?

No particular feelings to be pinpointed, no questions to be asked, no sequel to it, it will just be a one off thing. Don't bother asking me about it, cos it's worth nothing to those uninvolved.
When you feel the blood rushing to your head, and all you want to do is scream, not to be heard, but to bring your mind back to reality, it is time to do something about it.

Conscious enough to tell yourself to be otherwise, sober enough to tell yourself to blame the raging emotions on an inanimate object, sane enough to know what you're doing is wrong.

With these, one should know when to slap yourself. Hard.
Would the words mouthed, be an attempt to prevent a disaster on your side, or that of mine?
The flashbacks, haunting, forcing me to squirm and grimace. What do you actually do, when you started off with the right foot, and somehow in the process, you stumble and get on the wrong foot? Would you leave the path entirely, when that trip in the road is just a tiny aspect of it? Or would you make the best out of it, attempt to correct it, and act as per normal, like nothing has ever happened before?

It's not a reason for celebration. But, it has happened. It will lay buried, deep amongst the debris of the pumping organ inside of me.

Hold the judging and all, these are merely, a play of words. Form the image you perceive, will you, and hold on to that. It's all but part of your mind. Nothing's been said, nothing's been done.

The uncountable interpretations of it all, a mystery to us all.