Your words are like a hidden key,

They unlock secret parts of me.

I might be your fall, but you’re a pick-me-up to me. I might have written my way into your book, but you did more, you illustrated your love clearly, you displayed it so publicly that it was somehow secreted in front of my own eyes.

Your ruby red cheeks provide a window into your mind, indicating what it is you think when I speak: happiness, anger, fear, contentment.

Your lips provide a physical contact point for us to meet, connection yet no wifi needed, communication yet no cell towers, A commitment between two invisible entities, a communication between two hearts.

My eyes betray my emotion as your cheeks betray yours. What study is it that requires me out of your head? What history is more important than that of our own? What pit is so deep, so dark as to keep the sun away? For, love, tell me this, and I shall change it faster than a bad tv channel.

Your worries should fade, for they are nothing but spiteful superficial seeds sown by one who claims to dis thee. Hateration is a disease, but, my love, when one is as beautiful as you are or as sweet and mellifluous as you, you must accept that you attract it.

Taking note of your existence is like being in a building burning and continuing your business, ergo I always do what I can to let you know that I see you. I love you, I loved you, and I’m loving you to this day. So may our loves last as long as our kisses, and may our kisses last as long as our intimatic energies can remain stabilized.