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Please

I want to touch you and hold you and have you hold me and touch me. And we can lay there, touching and holding each other. We don’t even need to have sex, we can just lay there and think about how we could spend the rest of our lives like this. And then you could kiss me, tenderly at first and then with more force. And you could kiss my neck. And tell me you love me, over and over again. And smile at me and then we’d laugh bbecausewe know it’s true. And you would let me play with your hair. And we could hold hands and play with each other. And just talk about anything. And we’d fall in love. And one day you’d surprise me with a proposal and you could do it however, with a Ring Pop, at a restaurant, anywhere. Bbecauseit doesn’t matter, I’d always say yes. And then we’d kiss bbecausewe know that this is the beginning of the rest of our lives. And then we’d have to tell our parents, but first we make a plan to run away and marry, just in case. And we could get married anywhere, with no people because not even a priest has the power to tell God we’re perfect for each other, because He already knows. And we’d have sex eventually and know that we saved it for each other even though we could have done this whenever we wanted because we were together, And we’d celebrate every holiday together, and I’d put mistletoe everywhere so that as soon as you came home, you’d kiss me, not that you wouldn’t anyways, it just makes it more romantic. And on Valentine’s day, we’d just lay together touching and we’d tell each other why we loved each other and go over our memories until we couldn’t anymore. We don’t even need a fancy dinner and chocolate. Just you and me, together. And after we have kids, you’ll be the best father ever. You’d never abandon us at our time of need and you’d be there for every theater performance and band concert and football game with your camera. And the kids would call you lame but you wouldn’t care bbecauseyou loved us so much. And then the kids would grow older and hopefully have a love story of their own. And we’d play with our grandkids and you’d be the best grandfather ever. And we’d tease each other’s gray hairs but know that those hairs grew together, with each other. Whenever we’d go anywhere, you’d tell me I look beautiful and never leave my side even if the guys are watching a football game. I’d feel grateful but let you go. And every two minutes you’d look over to make sure I was okay. And when we’d die, we’d die together. Under a blanket, holding, touching.





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