maybe it's just me but the thought of you lately makes me sad. your skin five shades darker than a double-double; you remind me of almonds, hazelnuts, snow and full lips. you've got this little mole about two diagonal inches up from your ****. it's the inward sigh i stifle when i tell you i love you that tells me i don't. when we're in bed, the way you look at me makes me feel like an heiress, a goddess. when you pull on your boxers i see you: a spoiled brat. the way you speak to me makes me feel like i should apologize. i guess i'm looking for someone a little less shallow; when i started sinking i realized you didn't have the depth to understand a shipwreck.