With H, who's so needy at the moment. I look back and see that there was once a phase when we didn't kiss every day. It's not a real kiss. Just two, on the cheek, the bisous. But once we didn't. Then, after two months, we started- and now it's odd to have a day when you don't kiss me goodbye in the morning or kiss me goodnight.
What I want is to massage your back again. I don't know whether or not you found it odd, or whether you (like me) think it's something we don't do when there are others around, or whether you think it's putting on me. It's not, in any case.
You've made a rod for your own back
Which has already taken so many lashes
You feel like you have to cook
Because it's what you do
And you try so hard to be serene
But it's all paddling frantically underneath
And my love
I want to take you in my arms
And make you happy
And touch my lips to yours
If it's what you want.
You deserve someone you want
And I'd love it to be me
But I can't see
How I could ever find out
Without ruining what we've got
Four daily kisses
Twilight poetry recited under the stars of Parisian rooftops
And your seldom touch
And eternal companionship.
It's a risk.
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