I'm itching to give someone my love. LOVE love. Not motherly love, or friend love. The thick putty of passion. I want to slob it all over that person's chest. I want someone next to me that I could touch with a finger and know that I've transferred over something so taboo it mustn't be delivered through speech. I want to have to sit at a desk for 4 hours, toiling over something great, and the first glance I make as I lift my head will land on that person in bed. That person. I'd like to wrap that person up in a golden silk blanket and leave just enough head space for me to caress as I lay parallel. I want to come home in silent anger from dealing with obnoxious authority and chance upon that person stuck in a funny awkward moment. I'd stand still for a breath's length. Then I'd crack a smile and then I'd snort and then I'd most likely start coughing. I want to want to cook meals for that person. I want to get into fistfuls of fights with that person already knowing that the peace treaty was drawn a long time ago, and that's the only thing that mattered. I want to look into that person's eyes and feel no fear of love.
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