Bokelskere.no

The touch of you, or my imagined touching, seems both repellent and oddly succulent. It stings. These feelings stings. My eyes are always ready for you. They want to grapple and lay you down in fluffy white sheets of linen, safe, in your arms, strong arms. I would take you to Arizona and have you meet my mother even. The seeds of love have taken hold and if we won't burn together, I'll burn alone.