I believe if I should die,
And you should kiss my eyelids when I lie
Cold, dead, and dumb to all the world contains,
The folded orbs would open at thy breath,
And, from its exile in the isles of death,
Life would come gladly back along my veins.
You say you don’t crave love, boy?
You say you’re fine being alone and making different women’s bodies your temporary homes. You say you’re good having bitches and okay with going to sleep alone. You say you don’t do conversations, but if she wants to fuck just text your phone. You’ve always been a nomad. But boy. Let me tell you. You don’t know sex until your mind craves her more than your body and you get addicted to her beauty.. in the dark. You don’t know warmth until you dive inside of her love and feel a fire so strong that it could burn down any building. You don’t know tight until you feel the grip of a bond that cannot be broken. You don’t know tight until you feel her loyalty. You don’t know comfort until you wake up in the middle of the night to her fingers massaging your back because she can read your stress like her favorite novel. You don’t know loneliness until you are forced to not smell that perfect perfume that she dabs on her wrists and behind her neck before she hugs you…each and every time you see her. She will smell like heaven. You swear to know amazing cuisine at these restaurants that you take every girl you come across to in hopes of impressing her ..in hopes of undressing her. You do not know a meal until you watch her make you something from scratch and then make your plate like you’re a king to her. You will fall in love with how she looks from behind while she’s at the stove or even just brushing her teeth. You will stop staring at what’s below her waist when you finally get the bigger picture. You will anticipate her looking at you. She will spark something so deep in your stomach that you will realize you had cocoons in there all along. They just weren’t ready to be butterflies yet. You will know beauty when you see her without makeup and you’re tempted to count each freckle over and over when she finally falls asleep. The dip in her back will blend with your fingertips and you will strum her body delicately like the most beautiful guitar. Boy, you can pretend that you don’t crave love. But maybe just maybe you haven’t tasted it yet.