my wrists are highways, my veins are the roads. please turn your lips into cars and drive them down my arms and to my bony back, then to the back of my neck, my collar bones and then my lips. let me taste the ecstasy that falls off of your mouth when you kiss.
let me tell you about the nights i've craved you so much it made me cry, how many empty poems i've written for you. empty because i can never write you as perfect as you really are. there are no words to describe how you make me feel. you make me feel everything and nothing then back to everything and then back to nothing, then in between, and i'm not sure there is a word in the english dictionary to own up to that definition.
lay next to me and spill all of your secrets into my ears. tell me about the homesickness and let me see (up close) how your tongue touches your teeth, the roof of your mouth and your lips when you talk. i am so eager to get lost in you even further. i am lost in you now, although you are not here. which means my heart has gushed our of my nose and ears and eyelids.
i don't think i could ever measure my love for you. it is not the space between my eyelids multiplied by trillions, it is not my arms stretched out so far it pulls my already weak muscles, and it is not any poem. i could write poems for decades, non-stop, all for you; and they would never really show you how much i love you. these words are pointless. so come here, rest your head on my bones, let me taste your ecstasy, open your heart to me and let me love you even more than i already do. i love you, i love you, i love you, i do.