hold your hand, and
go on a date with you,
have a romantic dinner (and candle-light is an option).
share a Djarum with you. recite Shakespeare with you. dance. make you surprised.
bake you some pastry (and make you sugar-high like me!)
drink your wine to the very last drop.
One fine morning,
I’d see you and hold you from behind, when you wouldn’t notice.
when the Sun kisses your eyes, I’d kiss your lips.
we’d stand like that for a while. you’d be stunned you wouldn’t be able to move.
and as a return,
you’d give me a chrysanthemum and put it in my hair
and I’d, because of an act so stunning, lose control of my feet.
I love to…
smell you. touch you. taste you.
chat with you on YM.
write you emails. those immensely romantic lines.
talk with you on the phone (no matter how rarely it might be).
walk with you on the streets at night
(and make love with you too, if we wish).
I wanna, in a fine morning like this,
miss you as I would, and
be counting the days ’til when we meet again,
long to reach, and be able to feel the tips of your fingers. and smell your hands.
do a hundred different things
(including sniffing the back of your ears. (gently) biting your lips. rubbing my nose against yours. jumping into your arms…)
I just hate to
(one thing only, I promise)
June 7, 2008