i had no words to paint that moment in pen and paper but given a sidestep from the then breath-taker of an explosive euphoria in the midst of me-n-her i've sifted my mind for the lyrics to accompany the music of that night
while the sounds she sang flustered us both and the dampness of the flower kissed my finger i couldn't help but clutch life's saving grace: her and her expressive little quirks-- cute by the way-- which i enjoyed witnessing quite dearly... the magic of the moment was clearly magnified by the way her lips melted into mine along the backdrop of our warm fervent smiles
and finally, after hours of chasing the summit she found cloud nine at the tip of my finger... no words could ever capture that golden frame from its sequence of shots. i felt happy and so did she.
the race uphill battered our legs quite a bit so we rested on the comfort of each other's shy remarks, our legs sore but our hearts soaring elsewhere... we hugged and sat here and there but alas, my watch berated the two of us and in a dazed one-arm embrace, we parted ways downhill.
that night was unbelievable-- unparalleled and a first for us both... these words do little justice but are better than the apparent silence of a lacklustre palette of meaningless cliched tones
im sorry i say i love you too much. sometimes the moment winds itself just a little more such that the feeling needs my mouth as a conduit for its expression
but perhaps ill spare my words-- to be thrifty in these exchanges of uttered affection blurs not the feeling's existence: the butterflies are still there, but shall manifest themselves elsehow, as hugs and kisses strewn across the skyline of the ever-forgiving night
surely i wont stop saying i love you... but the instances i do shall flaunt a heavier shade of red once i save such statements for moments unmet in vibrance, strength and their capacity to lend our cheeks a palette of bright rosy hues.
and i shall make your initial reading of this poem one of those special moments by saying i love you
i swear we're rarely at ease with the way we push doors to new experiences kissing on public property isn't illegal but the nerve of the act thrills me just as much
parking lots are often not the site for love birds deprived of merry lip locking but we paint them red better than an arsonist with a burning passion can shade his buildings black
i wish i could watch that night play itself once more on a lofty screen just for us while we do it perhaps again--
the way i took your form and made it rest against a certain sedan... the way i kissed you then while my body leaned on yours... the way we held that kiss despite the bustling of the city night... the way you looked at me when we paused for a moment's sake...
i could tell you were so ******* high (and im sure you could tell i was too)
if ever i die itd probably be bcuz of an od from this kind of sht
i just want you to tie me up while you stand in front holding me down with your flustering stare...
you'd tease my weary mind, bringing us closer to the summits of cloud nine but never quite actually there.
but at the same time on other days, in just as frequent that occasion, i just want to hug you and nothing more-- to litter our days with sweet exchanges of affection while we toss around wholesome words of endearment--
my sweet lovelet, my pretty darling, my caramell... how i love the way we love
you'd lie on my lap with nothing much to say and there i'd bend to meet your wandering gaze... the rain, however light, would feign tears on your face tears i'd pretend betrayed a sense of elation-- had they been yours i would've cried just the same.
surely, i say, that day's a purple aster in my garden patch of greys, a haughty little lamppost along an awry little highway...
that day was (and i'd say it again, without thinking about lifting the spout tipping my pen) a lovely day, a ten outta ten
some say i think of you too much but so long as overdose on thoughts of you is a ways away, ill keep taking these memories with a cup of jasmine tea-- id rather count my days with you than the sheep I see in bed.
because they hit like ****** on a friday night. when my blanket has had enough of reassuring my anxious mind it's your lovely phantom that hugs me then: a figment of my pleasant longing for your hands and the way they hug mine.
sleep with me. maybe we'll wake up sat on a for-two caddy parked across the hanging end of a moonlit prairie. we'll toss the keys to our locked embrace until the sun finds us and throws them back.