If I weren’t diagnosed with a case of honesty I would tell you that I am good with just holding hands.
The only thing that I like abstract is etiquette and mind games,
My hands seem to have an unconscious attraction to your body,
Your lips are like a cashmere sweater that only fits on my lips,
You tongue tastes like caramel apples,
Such a cultured tongue, speaking in different dialects of French,
A kiss that soothes my mind like a warm bubble bath,
It is soft like freshly woven silk,
Blood cells seem to be having a marathon race throughout my veins,
I’d love to catch your tantrum,
Just to see what gets your blood pumping,
Clothes need to get some air,
Stuck to slicked bodies,
Cabin fever sets in,
Under pressure, hands dislocating delicate bones,
Clothes seem to fall like rain drops.