examine your concept of distance, the fundamental need for personal space. juxtapose independence with the desires of a loving partner who recognizes your spirit and seeks only to breathe in your air, to take space near your form, to feel the heat of your skin radiating life from the very bones of your person.
take poetic license, the ease of banter and conversation. slash this with the red pen of a gentle reader who seeks to study your string of letters, wishes only to add to the margins an understanding of your life story, wanting simply to absorb your aura trapped inside the pages of this leather bound book.
touch the child inside, the laughing joyful exuberance. quiet her mind with the expectations and rules of a father-like lover, patting your arm when you giggle too long, shushing silliness which cannot be kept at bay when sitting in the the pew, under stern gazes and tradition, he pales as smirks and exaggerated snorts burst from your mouth, flying to the cathedral’s ceiling where silence is your penance.
I shall not be bound by your needs. I shall learn to fly for my own, first.