It's just me throwing myself at you,
romance as usual, us times us,

not lust but moxibustion,
a substance burning close

to the body as possible
without risk of immolation.

Call me obsessed, color me consumed
I’ve always been the type to notice
The smell of a rose in bloom,
But let me confess, this is new
You’ve stopped my heart, let it resume
And I, to finish, must tell it true
I’m high on your perfume.

You are my drug of choice
I know you’re no good for me
And though I swear my lips
Will never touch you again
Here we are, here we are.

Love gives the best of highs
But also the worst of hangovers.

Sometimes it feels like even if
Every inch of my skin was touching yours
I still wouldn’t be close enough to you.

I have a desperate desire to put a ring on your finger. For there's nothing sexier than kissing a glistering hand in the sun.