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HopelessHopelessHopeless by Ghost-Spectre
The slightest touch of her hand, the faintest glide of her fingers over mine, is intoxicating. The poisons work their way like warm tendrils of a vine through every fiber of my being. The embrace she offers is enough to calm the raging madness in my mind. The sweet pressing of her mouth on mine is so tender, so gentle, I wonder in fear if I would open my eyes and she be gone. A thought alone can send me reeling! I adore all these things and will throw myself away to have them. But among them, the one thing I crave the most is to sit at her side and listen. Nothing more, nothing less, than to be with her. Sitting quietly next to one another, leaning against each other under a shady tree. Am I one to be considered hopeless? If so, let it be. Let it be simple and pure. Let it be small and tender. And let me stay a hopeless romantic till the end of my days.