Sometime between then and now we lost ourselves, finding refuge in misplaced homage and mistaking love for who can hold on the longest. We were never satisfied with everything, so we left it all behind, riding a stowaway train to recovery.  His eyes begged for salvation with deep gazes that seemed more misleading than honest. He’d quote the tunes of love songs because that’s the only way he was ever taught to love, using the words other people came up with.  When we’d make love he wouldn’t speak, he’d let the music do the talking. We left the room stained with deception, fiending off the secrets we kept from each other and the lies we would tell everyone else. Maybe it was the taste of wine that led me back here, tarnished by the hint of aberrance or the deceit behind it. His touch felt like home, rescue from the world around me. These moments were more than fleeting, this was therapy. Eyes locked, hands gripped, our bodies enthralled in this transitory passion. Thoughtless. I was hoping to lose sight of you in his arms. Our lies masked walls of infidelity, our minds fogged up with thoughts of all the things we didn’t want to think about. We were just trying to run away.