Frankly, this feeling of vulnerability and weakness is so very consuming.

The undeniable fact that my heart is puppeted by those gossamer wisps of daydreams and
of course,
you
remains etched in my skin.

I cannot quite
let you go
because that would
simply
mean
I will let me go too.

Let grateful, itself kiss your skin.

Let it twirl and wisp around those fingertips you can tweedle with,
to
write, draw, make unimaginable,wonderful
untitled somethings.

Slowly but surely,
that effervescent feeling bubble into your body;
sparks of bliss lighting those dark, dark oblivions.

I don't care!
Let those words
carelessly snuggle
themselves
in
the lines of your fingerprint.

Bare those pearly whites
everywhere,
sweet-heart!

Misspellings.

Coincidental; little mistakes
that make us
oh, so very
human.

A stroke or a little flick of ink that makes that dizzying difference
between what your lips wants to say
and
what is starkly conventional.

But trust me,
sweets,
when I write
I love you
at the
very end of
creased
coffee-stained and red lipped marked
napkins.

It isn't quite a mistake.

Hush those slightly alarmed eyes.

Perhaps, it's just my white heart painted red's
blissful
*fall.

The fact that
this b l a n k page
can be the next great love story

or

the gibberish
that
knots and unknots
your mind
scribbled and flicked
in ink.

Frankly,
the
infinite
∞
possibilities
are
*terrifying & wonderful.

I daydream f a r  too much.

My eyes must have been kissed by the starry sky  

& ampersand &

the wispy clouds are tickling the very tip of my nose,

and
oh
yes,

I am on my tiptoes.

I love you.

At least that is one true truth.

One that I can
always,

a l w a y s

come back
to.

Softly, unknowingly,
like the steam from these cups of hot coffee.
You languidly permeate through me.
Sweet & bitter
paints my little white heart
red.
With unbroken gazes, blind hands, shy fingertips,
our crimson cheeks
hues
over
winter-bitten
faces.