who doesn’t want to be kissed in the midnight hour?

when the moon,

waning and surrounded by fog shines through the curtains

when the air is heavy with the scent of rain

but still pushes forth a breeze, lazy and comforting

when your eyes search mine

for the permission my lips are too shy to provide

permission they want to provide

permission which can also be fulfilled by one head movement

who doesn’t want to be kissed in the midnight hour?

i don’t!

i don’t want to know what your lips taste like.

i don’t feel anything when you look at mine

who cares to solve the mystery of how ours might fit together

weather they might tangle or we’d effortlessly combine

I dont want to think about who’d pull who closer

or whose tongue fancies itself an adventurer

i dont want to know where your hands might travel

what island on my body you might find your palms stranded on

i dont want you to express whatever it is that you feel for me

with words, or gifts or carnal desire

i dont care for that feeling i get from under my epidermis

the burning that sits ontop of white meat and pools in the bottom of my stomach

or the sounds such a feeling might illicit

i dont want to go out on a date

definitely not dates plural

and definitely not with you

i dont want you to hold my hand as you lead me into a crowded room

i dont want sneaking glances or shared laughs.

i dont want to know you in a way nobody else does

i dont want to be certain of what it is that you feel for me.

i dont what to know if your heart has room to harbor mine

if you all you want for me to know is that my love is safe with you

it wont be forsaken

that it’s sacred to you

most of all, i dont want to like you more than i already do