Phone Talk

True regret was us not having a shared breakfast together, as Irene so vehemently, morosely lamented. But Father Time was not on our side, sadly, 

Alone, somewhere on one of the many tables that filled the vastness of the living room hall, I ate my plate in silence, as Irene waved and closed the door goodbye after assuring her I can make it home on my own.

In truth, I would have much preferred we could talk more about things, about us - what were we, exactly? Lovers would be the most accurate term to call ourselves… but to what extent is what I munched on the last of my bacon, wondering.

She said to just continue loving her and she'll be perfectly content with just that, and I do fully intend on doing just that, the question was - just how exactly do I do just that?

Where do we draw the line? What's okay to do and what isn't?