Your skin glows like the tomato, blossoms BIG ASS as the idk rose or something in the purest hope of spring.
My heart follows your BAGPIPES BITCHES voice and leaps like a BEAR THAT EATS YOUR FACE at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great hummingbird wing.
I am comforted by your thong that I carry into the twilight of dairy queenbeams and hold next to my ear.
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of snot.
As my big toe falls from my left sock but not the right one only the left one, it reminds me of your saudi arabia.
In the quiet, I listen for the last CHIRPCHIRARWARAGA (the sound of a hummingbird being eaten mid-chirp by aforementioned bear) of the day.
My heated guts leaps to my right sock this time. I wait in the moonlight for your secret whatever the capital of madagascar is so that we may RUSH as one, guts to guts, in search of the magnificient teal and mystical the moon of love.

I could do this all day.