The Idea Of You

Gather you in my arms.

Tame your particles running wayward, wild.

Tell you the tales of tiptoeing around the edges,

And skip a few breaths on the way you would smile.

Carry you on my back,

Shout you out to the world,

And hide you beneath the fabric of my favorite cotton shirt.

Lift you above the clouds,

And push you off the cliff so you could fly.

That’s the idea of you.

Touch you beneath your skin,

At the spots you were never touched.

Trick you to happily take a trip off the burnt bridges,

And pamper you to unveil everything you hide, subside.

Voyage along, to the places we’d never known,

Make love everywhere; plant the pieces of our hearts and souls.

So we would know where we could go back, ahead in time.

To rediscover us, to repeat our innocent crimes.

That’s the idea, my idea of you.

Suck you at twilights; drink you over infinite nights.

And spill you out again while I’m daydreaming.

Love each other, just like we would hate.

Kiss as if we’re screaming.

Raise you over me,

Half naked, half tangled in our sheets.

Let you ride, ride on your wildest fantasies.

Fuck our ghosts. Fuck all humans who fucked us.

Fuck fate. Fuck stars. Fuck the fucking destiny.

That’s the idea, my goddamn fucking idea of you.

But you have no clue.