At last, that feeling of pure space. My journey with the clutter mountain finally conquered. The carpet has grown several inches in land and I can even touch the back wall without leaning.
Now You curl Fussy to furl The womb room cosy You tumble and turn as you trumpet your rosy free life but fear keeps you stapled and strung Then it will be the pushing and flush
Inititate a string of verbal punch lines, Mimic and sting me with dazzling vibes, Pelt me with rosy words, Raise my eyebrows with breath-taking prose, Ease me into a delicious tete a tete,
I want you The taste of your invisible lips The subtleness of our spiritual union The past is no barrier to our encounters Your stubble tickling my cheeks Your hands linking gently with mine