I so helplessly ponder over the simple vision that you could be in my possession. Butterflies float inside while I think of your smile. Lovely vibes radiate off me. Your smile turns my butterflies into bats that ache for you so tenderly. I’m no longer writing about enchanting immaculate visions of innocent strolls or enwrapping the skin on my hand with your skin. Or journey on a head trip of the moments we could keep on a piece of film or the collection of movie tickets taken. My butterflies die and the bats bite at my rib cage until I bleed the disorderly desires of my mind. I long for your lingering touch on my leg, knee, back, neck. I imagine the day our lips meet for the first time and the lovely intricate conversation we will create without speaking a single word. Touch me with your eyes. I no longer enjoy taking things slow. I fantasize over speed, lust and burning lips. Close your eyes and imagine you’re in a car. Take me on a trip, drive fast and don’t stop. I’m sorry but you are turning me into a bat.