What I seem to be a slave to is a flow of imagination. I lie to myself and say that its following my heart but the truth must be that I cannot stop having visions of what I presume must be a heavenly state in which we live together.

Dressing you in comfortable clothing and basking in the awe that would befall me watching you leave the bedroom, happily walking into the kitchen, secretly knowing I adore you while you ignore me in your cool and dignified manner.

Just flirting with me in your every move – letting me feel the bliss that is your attention once you glace over to my happy face.

I’ll buy you the most luxurious mundane clothing so that you feel as though your floating around me like the softest of pillows you are. I cannot get enough of a woman that feels at ease and comfortable in her own being and I wish to complement that every day.

When we feel like it we’ll dress you up in splendour to celebrate the beauty that only you can be. I’ll delve into my utmost creativity and sense with the fulness of my being what would please you and watch you put on the costumes of the day. In my adoration I will take the photos and we’ll give the world a taste here and there, but the special ones belong only to us.

How I want to replace my artwork with framed pictures of you and just live in such rooms every day. Somehow rejoicing in how lucky I am and then give whatever I can once your glare touches me anew every time.

Whenever we have our fill, we relax into ugly cover and laugh at how you shine through it. We make love to the ordinary in the knowing that we wield it into grandeur at any whim, yet we choose to marinate in excitement until another day dawns and the need to please arises.

I want bad coffee and cigarettes with you, when we complain about our lives with smirks, because we are aware of the fact that we are slowly summoning a day of joy. Simply for the sake of creating something for one another fleeting beauty is meant to be appreciated. We wont always be young but we have the opportunity to let our memories blossom in old age.

It’s indescribable, but there is a sense of living I feel when I think of you – a subtle energy that lets me know that we’ll be. Of course I have left out the things we secretly enjoy together, because it’s all for show – a kind of triumph over being exposed. We harbour secrets that can only be given privately. The kind of stuff that is meaningless without context – this is what I live for, this and all the colourful fun around it.