Golden Rule.
I have no urge to do what used to be a necessity; I don’t dwell on the past. In your
presence of physical and mental distribution, subsiding the bad for good, putting
me in a state of equilibrium. It’s not safe to be writing these things this early. But
its how I feel. The cloth that your skin resembles dries up my past, and absorbs it
without any question. The warmth you radiate makes it unevenly distribute
throughout my body, you bring warmth and shivers. The safety issues don’t play
a role in either of our minds, what is needed is the presence of each other. It’s a
word that has no existence, but yet keeps us both wanting more. As the smile
radiates your figure, it does mine also. The one on one attention brings calamity
to my bindings. What’s embedded inside my delicate figure has been strangled
for such a long duration. It’s waiting to be released by the power you invested into
the lock. You’re entitled to the contents of this wooden chest. The color gold
resides all throughout your figure, but the feeling of another time, the warmth of
present time, the question of future time, is the Golden Rule. The intense but yet
visible attraction draws out all stressors in my mind. The chemical impoundment
is so concrete and so obvious that we both will not deny that it’s there. And what
we have, I’ve never felt before.
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