I want to ruffle
and pull your hair, scent your neck, kiss your left clavicle and bruise your lower lip, caress your right hip, press your trembling palms on my unsteady chest, blow coolness on your ardent eyes, bite your fears off and scratch your back, smooth your wrinkling beliefs, collect your tears in liberating chalices, hold your secrets in my innermost chamber and erase all your memories of others, fathom your disfigured moods, carry the whole weight of your pulse on my feet while riding, share the bitter taste of your terrors, forgive your fleeting malice without forgetting it, await you beyond endurance, bear your downfalls with subsequent reproaches, lift your sails against deadly storms, romanticize you foolishly with indomitable naivety, I want, so want, do want to choose you loyally without ever daring to un-choose you.
Would you too?
For a while…Say, for two lifetimes? One rule though, my love r: don’t ever get me comatose flowers or else on clichéic dates. Our artless infatuation is for whatever enough itself, my wonder ing choice, I will never request from you commercial proofs of affection rest assured, my demands run deeper, is just that conventional parades give me boredom allergies.