My breath would love to have a randevu
with your lips.
It screams in every single language I know
"Obey me! Obey me! Obey me!"
and keeps my mental equilibrium
in a dungeon,
leading me to hunger pains
with no hugs and forehead kisses to feed them.

My heels keep on clicking towards
somewhere you might be,
wailing loud enough
for all the love deities to hear.

Just come here already.
I'll arrange us some fine hot tea
and buy your favorite bakery,
we'll keep it proper yet overwhelming
and I'll let you wear my house slippers
so you won't get
cold feet.