Leave me wild.
My love isn't the kind that turns you on with curves,
It roars in exotic languages your timid heart cannot fathom.
My love isn't the kind that you talk about to those who fit in the bro code,
It is your most envious possession you always fail to recognise.
My love isn't the most delicious dessert
It certainly is an appetising cluster of sinful elements.
My love isn't the high you seek in alcohol,
It's the calm in cigarettes after sex.
My love isn't a poetic affair,
It is a bloody concoction of irrelevant syllables.
My love isn't bouquet of Roses you fail to get me,
It's grander than women you slept with.
My love baby, is a an intangible liaison,
Way too sophisticated for your wild ways.
My love isn't a maddening cobweb of strings not attached,
It's inked permanently on your goosebumps laden skin.