...I'm sorry, I couldn't hear you

There are some things we don't talk about: the most fun we had together, our best positions. No one needs to know, and we were the only ones there, so lets let it die. I used to think I missed it. I don't. I miss the conversation, maybe. I miss the taboo secrets we don't share, but not the rest. I can do without all the rest. Right right, what are we talking about. Certainly not sex, or lust, or a grotesque display of passion in the form of long red tears in my back and numbness in your toes, no. That's not what we're talking about. I've got this page, and I've got some songs. I've got small boxes in corners that remind me just how efficient these computers really are. I've got other stuff that I packed away in that box I mentioned a while back. "What more do I need?" doesn't fly around here. I know I don't need anyone to tell me what more I do need. Ha, where's the crowd. Come on crowd, stone me already. Just remember, this isn't what we're talking about...