Boo, bubba, sweet heart, baby – I love you.
These are sweet words that drip from your lips every time I’m with you.
The eyes are the windows to the soul… I romanticise those eyes of yours even though they are small and in an ordinary almond shape, the iris’ of your eyes look like clear honey when glistening with sunlight and when I lie beside you, side by side, hand in hand, my cheek on your chest, I look up to see the colour of my morning coffee.
For someone who portrays such a tough exterior to the world, your movements are fluid and your touch is gentle. I live to feel your fingers to run through my hair and your hand enclose the curve of my neck – pull me closer. I feel no fear nor pain, any moment of anger I felt slips passed down my back and falls to the floor just like my underwear.
I’m an alcoholic for you. I drink and drink from your lips and soon I’m drunk. I’m an uncontrollable, emotional drunk overwhelmed by feelings. You have the best kind of love, the never-ending kind, a kind of love I’m not privileged enough to have, yet I’m blessed to have the finest.
Another personal excerpt. Enjoy.