Woman who is not my lover

Woman who is not my lover

This is our future:

I will woo you with sweet nothings. My trivial whispers will tickle your earlobes. Love tones will cocoon us from harsh realities and exclude the world the way only new love can.

I will fetch you things, jump at your bidding. Gaze at you in wonderment. Pronounce every aspect of you ‘amazing’. I will spend hours marvelling at the perfect half-moons formed by the cuticles at the base of your finger nails.

Overwhelmed, I will put pen to paper for you. I will serenade you with ill formed sentences, weak but earnest sonnets and strange rhyming heartfelt lines. Forgive me for I won’t be able to help myself.

I will seduce your mind. Debate issues with you. I will be witty and charming but steadfast in my positions, an open book; receptive to new ideas but not wishy-washy. You will like this about me and it will help you to trust me.

I will make love to your body and to your soul, will cause your heartbeat to rumble like a seismic shift event and then lay down my head in the valley between your twin peaks and listen.

I will want to feel your sweat drip and hit me like London rain from your position on top, cooling me, preventing the fire you stoke with your fingers from consuming me completely.

I will bamboozle you completely. Stun you, disorganise your world and have you wake up dazed six months later with only the haziest recollection of a time we weren’t intimate.

These are all the things I would do to you ‘woman who is not my lover’, but instead I smile sweetly and mumble a shy good night.

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