"War Of The Love's"

Thoughts of Her always invade his mind, even when he tries with Light-Saber thinking to fight the invasion. When She smiles it's brighter than the solar, but some nights She's just too damn full of Herself, like the moon. Selfish with Her space, She's a blonde when it comes to understanding the real science of relationship, "You can't be the only star in it." Still, In his scope She is out of this world, but in Her world he's just an Alien trying to make contact. This saga here is called, "War Of The Love's.

Close Encounter Of The Love Kind

Vine, grape, then wine, they get better with time. Below Her window he stands with a guitar in hand, a one man band singing a pitchy, acoustic, slow version of "How much I Love You" and for no particular reason why, he just wants Her to be reminded of why. And perched upon Her window, Beautiful and shimmering in Her colorful splendor, She chirps with an Angelic voice, balancing out their harmony because She likes to back him up. From gloomy gray to bright blue white, Her smile re-paints his sky. And he is the ray of light that pierces thru Her life's darkest moments. Studied and prodded by experts, they are the future and the formula for Love. Together the seasons change; Winters become Sensual Summers and Rain Storms become Hugging Heat Waves. Inspired by their Romance the Universe politely grabs Space by its belt for a dazzling slow dance to comets ah crooning and asteroids ah whistling, rotating in reverse, dipping into a perfect pirouette, their Love is out of this world. Shaking up the norm of how the earth usually quakes, the ground now moves when they move because it too wants to follow in their footsteps. Vine, grape, then wine, they get better with time.

A Love Tantrum In The Grocery Store Of Her

I stomp my feet, like a child mad he can't have candy because She still doesn't understand me. A book once told Her that I was from Mars, but I disagree because only my thoughts of Her are out of this world. And I don't speak alien, I speak manly. It's a soft and strong dialect with an emotional undertone. A language She still can't comprehend because She's only used to hearing all the BS and True Lies. I want more than behind, I want a mind with behind. I want weekends of sprung spoiling; filled with fruit feeding, face foundling with gentle fingers and sultry slow dancing to Love songs made in the early...late 90's. I'm an only child, not spoiled, but I do want what I want when I want it, but willing to earn it which defeats the stereotype. Is this too much to ask? Too much to ask would be me asking Her to Love me more than She Loves Herself, and I could never suggest that because then that would mean She'd suck at Loving me because She doesn't Love Herself enough. So can I get my treat now? Or what more must I do before I can enjoy that chewy feeling? That sugary rush that keeps my wheels turning with no plans on hitting breaks? I want Her, I want Her, I want Her.