Whenever my eyes rest upon her curves the urge to lower myself is beyond my control. She’s in bloom. She’s a shrew that can’t be tamed and whenever she’s with another it makes me want to taste her that little bit more. We walk and dance and spin and spit and kiss and fuck and shine and whenever my fingers search inside her mouth she wraps her tongue around my thumb while never taking her eyes from mine. Whenever she shimmers she strips and pushes me down upon the bed reducing me to that of a kid with bulging eyes in a candy store and even though I’m comparing her body to whatshername she wins hands down because no one makes me come like her. And yeah one day she’ll be old but so will I and yeah it’s cheap but so is everything. I’ve spent so long trying to figure stuff out and so many years doing my best to understand it but really who gives a damn? I say I’ll cut out the drinking and I say I should do this and do that but what matters most is that I write from the heart and fuck like there’s no tomorrow. What means more than anything is to love and be beautiful without feeling the need to give a reason because there are no reasons and there are no answers and the questions themselves pale in the face of what we seek behind the veil. The more we dance and smile and run through the fallen leaves the more I bite her neck and sniff her scent while rubbing my cock across her belly and yeah she says it’s not romantic but who needs romance when you’ve got nothing left to lose in a world that doesn’t care? And that’s what you’ve got to understand. No one cares, and that’s why I cry these tears of joy whenever I see a bird picking up a twig with its beak or a cat trying to snatch the wind with its paws because these things are so easily missed. These beautiful things, they are missed by almost everyone and that’s what makes it so worthwhile and even though she doesn’t see it I know she will. I know there will be a day when she realises that to exist isn’t in the eyes of others, it’s to be without form and to be as light as air. To be a thought. To be an idea. To be a feeling that’s as fleeting and as precious as a silently mouthed prayer.