Silent as a flower, her face fell in dismay, aware that the ghost of lust ate and left, sensing that there was a different scent of perfume consuming the room, and that she had numbered and counted the he loves me, he loves me not of each petal, where the lifeless dust had settle.

To save face, it's better not to ask sex from the ex, but to give everything the axe.

She says: ...love is really all that matters. He hears: ...really love to do it on the mattress.

Lust likes to rush, while love hates to wait.

All these pricks gathering around her body, trying to reach and pierce her rose.