An adolescent dawn, an adult noon, an elderly twilight, an ageless dusk… I wonder why in the decreasing Moon I love you love when I am a bit brusque with you. Your acquiescence, your retreat, your sweet participation in the crime against morality tempts me to treat you like you do deserve: to pick up rhyme with your obedience, to find the most salacious likeness which is not enough to properly describe your innermost enigma of the lust. Oh, how I love your shameless bareness, your exposed moles and the increasing Moon when we swap roles.