There was something poetic about loving strangers, that night.
You touched each other's wounds, closed your eyes, watched the memories; that night.
There were walking giants all over her body, that night.
Thousands of planets slid through his eyes, that night.
Your hands could make love for hours, that night.
You could hide the whole universe in his right-cheek dimple, that night.
But it was all you had.
And this is the story of why you hate the sun, since then.