What’s your romance SAT score?
Do you top the 5% of cuddlers, kissers, huggers; with chivalry unheard of before?
When you draft professional works of art from stray sheets of loose leaf does it reminisce Basqiat of love letters or the Chopin of oaths?
Do you boast after you’ve expanded you’re significant other’s coronary like bowls of overheated oats?
In the maths, is it imperative to square confusion with algorithms and does sex require obtuse angles to make the clitoris do like testicles and go firm and then dangle?
Right before orgasm does the vaginal walls go pi and then full circumference?
Is the radius of the penis as important as it’s momentum or mass?
I ask… then,
How much in tune are you with her tune? His favorite fragrance for your skin butters and perfumes?
Her sexiest undies, his most intimate words, her most profound secrets???
What’s the lat. and long. of big, huge, deep passion?
Contend to fixate my attention at your historical beginnings.
I want to divulge in your highs and winnings,
Capture your essence of there and fabricate them in your gutter lows and mediocre moment’s very trimmings.
All for the geography of you or even the history.
Mystery of love is still a mystery.
So soliloquys get in line for grammatical entrance.
The sentence slays communication and the obsession crafting timeless thoughts into the end dance.
You please my presence, so I present my intelligence acquiescence/ generations of feverish perversions pervert the mind/
Blind me with your caring persona and all its fluorescent; light.
My love IQ of you is border line failure and that’s not right.
Not because I’m uninterested but because your character is so vast.