I should warn you that this letter will not be eloquent. I have felt
these words like a weight in my chest, until I find myself amazed that a
heart can go on beating under such a burden.
I love you. I love you desperately, violently, tenderly, completely. I
want you in ways that I know you would find shocking. My love, you don't
belong with a woman like me. In the past I've done things you wouldn't
approve of, and I've done them ten times over. I have led a life of immoderate sin. As it turns out, I'm just as immoderate in love. Worse, in fact.
I want to kiss every soft place of you, make you blush and faint,
pleasure you until you weep, and dry every tear with my lips. If you
only knew how I crave the taste of you. I want to take you in my hands
and mouth and feast on you. I want to drink wine and honey from you.
I want you under me. On your back.
I'm sorry. You deserve more respect than that. But I can't stop thinking
of it. Your arms and legs around me. Your mouth, open for my kisses. I
need too much of you. A lifetime of nights spent between your arms
wouldn't be enough.
I want to talk with you forever. I remember every word you've ever said to me.
If only I could visit you as a foreigner goes into a new country, learn
the language of you, wander past all borders into every private and
secret place, I would stay forever. I would become a citizen of you.
You would say it's too soon to feel this way. You would ask how I could
be so certain. But some things can't be measured by time. Ask me an
hour from now. Ask me a month from now. A year, ten years, a lifetime.
The way I love you will outlast every calendar, clock, and every toll of
every bell that will ever be cast. If only you...
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Read the Erratic Love Poem Dabota Lawson Wrote
Reviewed by Alex Reports
on
15:51
Rating: 5
I should warn you that this letter will not be eloquent. I have felt
these words like a weight in my chest, until I find myself amazed that a
heart can go on beating under such a burden.
I love you. I love you desperately, violently, tenderly, completely. I
want you in ways that I know you would find shocking. My love, you don't
belong with a woman like me. In the past I've done things you wouldn't
approve of, and I've done them ten times over. I have led a life of immoderate sin. As it turns out, I'm just as immoderate in love. Worse, in fact.
I want to kiss every soft place of you, make you blush and faint,
pleasure you until you weep, and dry every tear with my lips. If you
only knew how I crave the taste of you. I want to take you in my hands
and mouth and feast on you. I want to drink wine and honey from you.
I want you under me. On your back.
I'm sorry. You deserve more respect than that. But I can't stop thinking
of it. Your arms and legs around me. Your mouth, open for my kisses. I
need too much of you. A lifetime of nights spent between your arms
wouldn't be enough.
I want to talk with you forever. I remember every word you've ever said to me.
If only I could visit you as a foreigner goes into a new country, learn
the language of you, wander past all borders into every private and
secret place, I would stay forever. I would become a citizen of you.
You would say it's too soon to feel this way. You would ask how I could
be so certain. But some things can't be measured by time. Ask me an
hour from now. Ask me a month from now. A year, ten years, a lifetime.
The way I love you will outlast every calendar, clock, and every toll of
every bell that will ever be cast. If only you...
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