I know there is a myth where someone digs a hole under the cover of darkness to whisper all of their deepest secrets into.
Perhaps this is not so secret...
When I am with you, no matter who, or how many other people are in the room, all I can think about is how your lips might feel against mine.
I don't need to own you. I don't need it to mean that things must change, but if I can't kiss you so very, very slowly... if I can't taste you just once, I think I might crawl out of my skin.
And now, as I pack my baggage for dreamland, I will carry with me the idea of your lips, and the greater notion that sometime we may sleep peacefully beside each other, with nothing changing in the morning, except perhaps how quickly we can finish each others' sentences.