I have one last bullet for your name,
and a trigger to inch that nerve for love

A magazine to read that body language,
and way to love you to no end, by that muzzle

A target to shoot my shot, and a license to
**** the time, when we spend it kissing each other

A quick reload on my words, knowing what to
say; those words that turn you on

As you look like a rose, and those roses are stained in red,
by the violence to love each other so true

And I mistook you for a treat, but it was a sweet death
knowing I would **** the whole world, to prove my love to you

                              It's such a tragic crime; -love.

-my past is a bit like glass,
there's a few cracks; where
a lot of memories slip through

Here you are, and there I go,
a cassette of love; sometimes I flip you off
Still on the other side, a lot of anything goes
as an entry by the look of your eyes, right into your soul
Two of which are open doors, as I'm open to being yours

I don't claim to by any kind of superman,
that tends to turn into a superficial kind of love
And that's more of being way too suspicious,
always trying to supersede all that I have above
But I'm not always on top of things; especially
on one of my many lows, trying to hold onto everything
Everything slips out of an overprotective opinion, in a white glove;
and you probably recognize that common love sickness
A common kind of flu, when love is in the air as just a common
feeling; over the ceiling, to when I was close to a heaven above

But even if I didn't believe in angels,
I'd kiss the wings of the only one I knew
It would be you, but you wouldn't believe me if I said I love you
so much, that much of it annoys me; thinking about you
You flew into my room, and lifted the butterflies in my stomach,
netting my eyes, at first gaze to know you were a catch
Whether to say, "thanks," or "*******," for what you've done,
all I'm left to say is,

                        "I love you, I love you, ****** it I love you"

Tensions that live rent free in your head
-I guess it's not a tenant

Still the kind of people saving up old money;
we don't have much for our early pension
So please don't be late, especially when you're
working yourself to death

I've a few times picked a bone with you,
for working all of those skeleton hours
Chasing a dream day by day,
and hopefully the night's result, is the money following

Life *****, and of course you can't spit the taste,
as our youth is something we have to swallow
And drink a little harsh truth to wash it all down

Don't forget to be social,
talking to peers about so and so
Who we know, and who pretend to not know,
but it's really stuck on your nose; as the scent of intentions

I do get your intentions, still listen to me intensively;
kiss your wife hello, more than goodbye
Be there for the family, the kids might forget to call you dad,
but more of a daily service provider- that's really sad

                                    ...P.s, a note to self

Let me draw you as a sketch;
a portrait of all those beautiful memories

And we can make up some future events,
with like a little paint on a face-
All of the colours of a world, you and I have to face

Stick to my side like a rib bone,
say that you love me with your chest

Skip the conversation about rocking your world,
and let me skip a rock on your stream, when we're alone

Let's tell each other all our ***** little secrets;
the ones with a little dirt, to keep us down to earth

Going around trying to pick at each other;
I do prefer to fork, but I had a spoon to scoop you up

Let's build a mansion of all our dreams,
and live in their moments, before the disappear

I'll let you be the playlist of my day,
and let you be an airpod in my ear, to hear you clear

Tell me, what's your favourite part,
and I'll play out the role with a script written
out, by all the feelings I have at heart.

There' a missing scene,
in between a few texts of your last seen
Making my mind go black as that screen,
staring at the dark; a usual shadow as it seems
As you could cry yourself a river over a missed
opportunity of Netflix and chill; but it's just a couple streams

Invest in sharp objects, I might *****
you mind with my dark thoughts
I hope you won't lose interest
when I call you mine
Give you a fine line as you scroll past me
in a passing thought, on your timeline
We'd share likes by a double chance,
but let me tap a second time to proclaim my love
And feed your mind ironically on sweet nothings,
a bit of something you've never heard before;
My bare naked vulnerably turns into poetry ****

I'm explicit on how I express how I feel,
a thrill in a reality, more realistic that what you see on a reel