Sour

s/he sees a difference emerging (wants to explain but doesn’t feel s/he can ask questions, wants to understand but knows there are no answers to be had without asking said questions), after the intimacy has ushered its way in, after the emotions have achieved their hilt, after the ball has begun to roll down the other side of the hill--- for said thing that had been happening, whatever it was, however it could’ve been classified, has begun to go sour, curdling like milk, making the whole room smell foul & heightening the tension at a rate quicker than that of the ensuing depression to come & sweetness will not follow, no matter how many lullabies s/he sings him/herself alone in the dark.