Warnings: Mentions of adultery.
Rating: [12] (PG)

There’s a forbidden religion belonging to us,
And it’s hoping the deceptions aren’t too much.

The apple grove was quiet, too still to be peaceful. Not even a gentle breeze ruffled the leaves as a moonless sky looked on, even the stars seemed dimmer that usual. Entwined beneath the branches of a heavy tree, lay a pair; old lovers, still, too quiet to be content. For in contentment there is noise: happy sighs; soft moans; sweet laughter, be what it may; there is always noise.

They stared up through the maze of leaves, trying to find something to say, for there is no mention of angry fathers, disappointed mothers; unwanted keepers in the form of husbands and wives. No mention of rings placed in purse and pocket; of a life outside of this moment.

They look for stars to guide them, for some promise of safety, for a word to tell them that they will have time again. But there is no answer, as there is no answer as to why they cannot look at each others face, as to why clothes where thrown in an attempt to rouse passion long lost. They won’t admit yet that the lies take their toil, that they are not the young loves they once were, and that this may be the last time.

No divorce will be issued in the morning; there won’t be talk of adultery and better lives. Husbands and wives will lie in bed together and tell themselves that this is where they both want to be, and as time passes their trysts will grow less frequent, the urge will fade away. For lies rest heavy on the heart, and a heart can only take so much weight.