October 17, 2012

My Love

Your skin glows like the banana, blossoms doofus as the rose in the purest hope of spring.
My heart follows your violin voice and leaps like a martin freeman at the whisper of your name.
The evening floats in on a great sherlock holmes wing.
I am comforted by your purple shirt of sex that I carry into the twilight of TARDISbeams and hold next to my hearts. 
I am filled with hope that I may dry your tears of drugged coffee. 
As my black curls falls from my bow tie, it reminds me of your Baker Street. 
In the quiet, I listen for the last wooshing of the day.
My heated penis leaps to my shoes. I wait in the moonlight for your secret skull so that we may walk 500 miles as one, penis to penis, in search of the magnificient TARDIS blue and mystical westwood of love.