There’s a satellite touching my head as I think about you, I’m higher than the atmosphere can catch.
I can see your hips moving, almost swishing as you walk away from me, head in the clouds even then. I can feel the heat of your kiss as caress the small of your back, showing my intimacy with you as music plays in the background of this milieu, us dancing in unison, slowly moving from side to side, hand in hand and minds on one thing…
Love.
More specific, our love. We love like that was all we could make, we held hands like if we didn’t they would fall, kissed like if we hadn’t, then our health would deteriorate. We became the other and the other became we. We became us, your became our.
We were one once more. How chill and mellow we were. Our love beat at a tempo that only our hearts could follow, our emotion a symphony all its own.
Maybe you, like Maxwell. I’m in love like T-pain, influenced by all that is around me and even more so by those hidden from me. I call it love, but really, all I knew was that I didn’t lust you, I felt more than one emotion. I was tired of you, intrigued by you, enjoyed you, loved you and wanted you. I felt you to be the one. I wanted you to be my favor to myself, I wanted you to sweep me away in reminiscence and happiness that would ensue from it.
I wanted your love.
If I may ask, can I have it? Can I love you? Can you love me? I know it seems foreign to you, but it’s just as foreign to me, yet I can distinguish it from other emotions that I’m feeling. I feel a difference with you, you are a difference, and I am truly intrigued now.
I’ve never had a love as sweet as yours, never had someone as close as you later did. But now I’ll never forget it. I can’t stop with my reminiscing of what it was, what it should’ve been.
What I feel is an amazing issue, what I want to feel is a completely different factor. But what I want is for you to give it to me.
Your heart is my pillow, my heart is your bed. I am an open book love, and I pray you browse my pages.