Between Lust and Uncertainty

It started with a glance — the kind that lingers just a little too long.
There was no promise in it, no words, no grand gesture… just a quiet spark that shouldn’t have meant anything, but somehow did.

He told himself it was nothing serious. Just attraction. Just curiosity. Just… something light to fill the silence of his days.
But lust has a way of disguising itself — it doesn’t knock, it seeps in slowly, like smoke curling through a half-open window.

Every message from her felt like a hit of adrenaline. The late-night calls. The teasing laughter. The almosts.
She made him feel seen again — not for who he was, but for the parts of him that still craved to be desired.
And that was enough… or so he thought.

But somewhere between the conversations and the unspoken tension, the line blurred.
He began to wonder — was it lust, or was he falling?
He wasn’t sure anymore.
Because lust burns hot but fades fast…
and yet, her presence stayed in his thoughts long after the fire should’ve gone cold.

Maybe it wasn’t love.
Maybe it was loneliness, dressed in the warmth of someone’s attention.
Or maybe — just maybe — he’d forgotten what real love even felt like.

And so, he kept her close, not out of certainty, but out of fear.
Fear of letting go of something that felt alive, even if it wasn’t real.
Between lust and uncertainty, he found himself trapped —
wanting more, but not knowing what more even meant anymore.

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