You take me by the neck and drags me through each part-of-your-body with power and precision. I almost scratch with my own beard using skin friction to draw our signs in the breasts belly thighs legs and everything else. Makes me pay her tongue when I enceno some dramatic skit not to let you get out of bed: you get if you want and still says he could have raised while taking my distraction. Tale their pints one-by-one-with-care-of-the you not understand my obsession with calculating every inch of your body. Try to enjoy it’s too late now and will soon dawns, you go away and if creates a chasm that involves time and space between the ring signal and our touch again.
I have to hurry you, and my anxiety can not be controlled by any diagnosis, is not it, Doctor? Call me to tune this longing with your husky, to improve my day to make me go with little notice, and be scolding in traffic rowdy, this town, call me to slow down my thoughts and prose that will . If losing. And no. It is concluded. And hangs loosely around with. Many points and talk some more I want to hear your voice again, will.
Does seem that the twenty-four-hours of my day pass slowly and has no button to advance you as well as I wanted to do now. I leave work and it seems that I have always fifteen years of age again because you have afflicts me, attacks me, squeeze me and takes me more than much psychoanalyst with a doctorate and a tachycardia me because my mouth gets dry, I runaway – even if only in my head – but does not fix, right? Look at what you make me good and how life was good when you want to stay here, walking, making me room, playing cards or chess dominoes asleep on me. I notice that the stamping on the face that prolonged use can cause side effect – for good and for evil – and adverse reactions that cause me excess and abstinence from you. Notice that for you I’m through in parts, that you need to know that we can ignore a little while now, and always present to you the best of me, served in tray with a martini and olives.
Notice that you’re the best love I ever had and I have the details. In wisps of frayed wool shirts in the cold, dirty hand in of coal in the barbecue Sunday in the invoices stored and organized in folders to remind me of this Valentine’s Day that I have not bought. Look what you got me enamored. And amazes me how anyone ever charmed me in this life.