Your house.
The soft light. The green and yellow painted walls.
The tall and wide windows.
All your books. All your paintings. All your pictures.
All the most important words I know.

Then snowfall.

And you’re naked on your couch and the image of desire
It’s terrifying. It’s beautiful. I hate myself. I want to stay here forever.

Every move is intentional. I want this to be everything all the time.
I want to get this right.
I want to give you something real.
                  Something sweet and meaningful.
Something you can really get your claws into.

Please don’t say I’m overdoing it.
         I’m trying my best to make      
                             something worth your time. So you might think you could love me.

But instead:
              Humiliation.