Sigh. The streetlight kissed your eyes and created an impression so pure, its whiteness. I bring this up because I fell in love by remembering my reflection off your iris. Expression in its highest form, sensory design to cure, destinies arrived. Analyzed the sculpture, of course, then vandalized your structure. Leaves falling aimlessly, in their phantom-like flutter. Randomized in the sputter of it all, only to capture geometry. If love reaches new heights, this colloquy is written in masterful mountains, parallel streets, the architecture of houses, potential surrounding of impeccable scenery only strengthened and balanced by the powerful breath breathed into me when your mouth pressed out in between, the sound effect of the pucker so loud, so vehemently. I remember a shroud of evenly distributed, heavenly eloquence, where blood cells held an exodus to swell in the realm of my lips.
Visited a palace of hymns where people would sing forever, rectify the devilish sin held in the pits that existed because we relished in them. To intensify my sensory limits, so inexplicably wicked, touching a galaxy. Lungs breathing love, lost and found, but what were we hiding and seeking from? Under an elm, deciduous. It was funny because that’s when I decided. Where the brushing of wind from Sandy slighted me above the stratosphere. We’re out of here, cusp of your hand became the new life vest where if it rained, I knew right then to hang by you, to clutch, until the waves subdued in horizons.
Hell-bent over control of my conscious, like I poured everything, and stanzas decomposed into options. The perfectness? Prose couldn’t match with it. Gravity didn’t have an emerging role in this drama and thesis portrayed through my soul, because I swear it rose, and nirvana’s capricious. Picture a boat, now picture it floating without water beneath it, still rocking along the coast, unbeknownst to a force that governs its beaches. Once I pulled you close to me and spoke in a manner, boldly enamored, dissolving distraction, your hips close to me after. It was poignant. I told you to kiss me, with the grip of your jeans intervening and lingering, memorizing the seams, and create macrocosms just between what I felt in my fingertips. Elevate my scarlet shard. That’s the end of the discussion. I could feel the eruption of your blushing, emanate from my arctic heart.
Hurricane winds made you clutch your arms in a defensive posture. This next sentence is a toss-up between a metaphor for intensive form or comparing your sensual heart hugs to a tropical storm. Love boat wasn’t enough to capsize in waves of charm. Awestruck, star-studded raindrops baptized our naked arms, established an anomaly so vastly diverse; I could only deduce it in a calculus version, gauge the geometric perversion, and argue that it was mathematically perfect. And by that? I came to animate inanimate objects, abstract art splattered paint so simple, my only explanation is that it had to be complex.