Your joy. Your charisma. She had so much less than what she offered. Her warmth violated thermodynamics. She was truly a miracle in my existence.
Come close. I have so many important things to tell you. You must take it personally if they don’t make any sense. I’m too busy running a parallel simulation of a thought experiment that tells me what might happen if we break character for a kilo-second. It’s so distracting. I need a minute to reallocate resources from my imagination. I need to come back down and repair the steps in front of the house.
Can we have another one of those lingering hugs during which we argue about safety? You’re so warm and sexy; kind, compassionate, enthused and larger than so many other things in life right now. You’re so open with me. Every time you reveal something new I want to hold you for 16 hours. I want to entangle fingers and use my mouth to cause a gentle breeze across your neck at an inappropriate time, tainting an otherwise innocent moment with painful curiosity. Ugh. Why? What are you doing in my electricity?!
It’s okay, it’s okay. I need this; the part that’s happening right now. Something tender and unspoken, heavily implied with desperate stares and bitten lips. Let’s sit on the couch and deadlock eyes as we both think hard about fucking.