I fill the spaces, big as oceans
with little things
hold back a tidal bore of absence
with a matchstick dam
until, I see you
then,
neck deep and choking
first heels, then tiptoes
leave the floor
and I am shingle dragged
half drowned; half swimming
to your shore.
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You have amazing eyes (if that’s you up there!?)
But since these are the main features of your main face on your main head I bet you are bum-squealingly bored of being told that.
So.
Judging by this poem I would say the contents of your main head are pretty amazing too.
Which counts for a lot more I think π
Ah so you like my eyes? Shall I send them to you through the post or would that be too Freudian?
Thank you and thank you π
I put more store in my head than my eyes. It’s pretty rare to meet a man that does the same…
Panda’s are sensitive.
And soft.
You can stroke me one day.
As long as you don’t objectify me π
I thought you were fierce? Woos.