I continuously hope
that our eyes would interconnect and create intergalactic sparks of erratic love and lust.
Your luscious lips are all that is left to think about.
Your poetic words make love to my heart every night
And the salty tears that run down my pale skin are filled with belligerence and rage, with odium and repugnance, with angst and grit.
Your words fill me with such mellifluous reverie and I get lost in my thoughts, my mind wondering on and on about how I could make you mine.
Do you remember the letter I sent you?
The one where I expressed all my interests and sincerity about my feelings for you.
I remember you ripping the crimson paper apart, like it had caused your vexation.
Then your eyes were painted in utter hate for the sight of my face, which was dripping due to the tears.
Later that day, I saw you.
Smiling happily.
Laying peacefully in the pool of the red liquid that flows in your vein.
Now, thinking back, I remember how nostalgic that moment was.
