Flit, flit, flit.

All we do is flit.

Well, I guess that is the bandwagon that has been wheeling nowadays. Pretty sure, all of us have been hoppity-hopping for about sometime now. Don’t even dare denying, am no virgin, so are you. Do we need to train ourselves to be as such? Would that hinder us from getting hurt? Maybe. Yet that seems to be foretold. Paranoia it may become since the concept is way to polygamous. The QUEENdom has been. And I reckon will always be.

All we do is flit. Butterflies do.

I can’t call it being sex-aholic since you’re not on beck and call 24 by 7 so, I guess its just one of those itches  that needs an itty-bitty of scratching. You can’t blame the norm since aside from the queers, straight people has this concept as well. It has been a while that I have flitted and from experience it gets too tiring every once in a while, your heart and your emotions gets fed up with all the nonchalant galantry and promises. Such flowery enticement. As layman’s as we are, we give in.

All we do is flit. Butterflies do. And we are not.