2008. A piece about love and shit.

In my heart, I want you to come and gather me up, to hold my face in your hands, to kiss the lights out at night. You, with your graceful strength, your’e holding the walls up to stop yourself collapsing.

Sweet, beautiful lady. With one signal, I would be like a wreath, like a dog, sitting with my feet and my toes in submission.

I already realise this post is divided into several points. Thanks.

I love you. My silly quirks are yours. My laughs direct me passionately into your arms. I lose breath when I imagine myself underneath you, hair hitting me like rain, love on my belly, kiss on my tongue, your moist fingertips drive into me, I die for you, every day. I am drunk on you, you make me forget. I love you.

I’ll never stop hoping. The sad thing is, I know you’re awesome, and you know, somewhere, that I am too.


About neilstilwell

Abseiling into trouble, a sewer rat staring at the stars. Disgusting. You can assist my search for the one ring by buying a Kindle version of this diary from here. http://www.amazon.co.uk/frozen-fridge-Zoomeister-Diaries-ebook/dp/B00C426DD0/ref=sr_1_sc_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1366481719&sr=8-1-spell&keywords=a+frozen+turd+in+a+hot+frudge It has some other stuff in it, and a dreadful cover.
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