come with me, you!
i'll show you how to do things you never tried and i never knew to be true.

watch as i turn your tongue into a cherry stem and blow bubbles with your thoughts.
i'll twist all my fingers into a bundle of forget-me-nots.

keep the lights off! i think the sun shines out of your behind.
i think that rivers flow out of your bellybutton divine.

would ya look at this? the dictionary has a new definition:
'onomatopoeia' means "us kissing in your kitchen"

in this licorice spit-stained envelope blushes your love letter, simply put:
close your eyes so i can sweep it underfoot.

parts of you think that things are better left unsaid.
parts of me says "whatever, ******. drop dead."