Morning Txt

Dear lover of mine,

It has come to my attention
that my respiration
seems to be
paraphrased,
synopsized
into an inspiring novel,
arrested by the phases
of your lunar smile.
You’ll
have to
excuse my lungs
for mistaking you for oxygen,
they’ll stop at nothing
short of hypoxia
and delirium
to straitjacket your essence.
Adapting to perform
anaerobically in your presence;
I’ll refer to you as Miss,
the only verb I can actively do
in your absence.

For you,
were never meant
to be held awkwardly,
like a novice’s guitar solo
for college auditions;

you,
were never meant
to be kissed,
by lips that stutter-guess
your middle name;

you,
were never meant
to be touched,
as if your curves
were homicide chalked white
and yellow-taped into caution;

you,
were never meant
to be loved,
as if you were the last option.

So I’ll clock in
to a new occupation.
The Make You Blush Foundation,
you can call it
MY-BF for short.
Just know,
that we’ll be
forever broke;
but I’ll retire
off your laughter,
provide you
with delectable memories
for social security,
and you’ll tell me
to get a real job
and I’ll recite
the 32 reasons not to.

By the end of this
I want to taste your smile
over the air,
feel your dimples travel
to the other side
of the hemisphere,
fatigue,
get jet-lag so it’ll still linger
over the horizon of tomorrow.
So when people ask:
“Why does your smile look
like you mouthwash with photons
and swallowed Elmo’s fire?”
You’ll tell them:
“Oh this smile?
Is solar powered
by a love the sun
envies to orbit.”

And I should probably
stop here,
but I heard that teasing
is a quality
only thorough lovers have so:
allow my fingertips
to release the fireflies
of pining pleasure,
poise the arch
of spine
to elated tension,
taunt
orgasmic rebellion
to revolt between pelvis,
biting lips
to hold sweet relish hostage,
skip kisses from nape of neck,
down to shoulder,
clavicle;
loosen
bulging buttons of blouse
in library silence…

I’m sorry,
are you still blushing in public?
I’ll behave,
promise. 😉

Sincerely, your thorough lover…

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