i want to curl up with you;
rainy Sunday afternoon
watching old Hepburn films
and you stroke my hair
and i stare at you.

i want to read to you;
candle-lit room
scented with mangos -
and you rest your legs on mine
and i smile at you.

i want to get high with you;
flowers in bloom
you smell ashy
and we listen to Syd Barrett
and I cry with you.

i want to ride with you
sunlit bedroom -
sweaty expressions
and palma violets gush from my depths
and i die with you.