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P.S. Most women spray their letters with perfume. You’re the first who has scented the paper with their pussy. Brava.
The next time you allow a man to touch what’s mine, you’ll find his body parts under your pillow.
My choice of last meal wouldn’t be liver, fava beans, and chianti. It would be you. I would devour every inch of your delectable body from your luscious lips to your pretty pussy. I would lap your juices, drink your piss, lick your sweat. No part of you will remain untouched.
“You’re mine. Mine until the end of time. Mine until the sun goes supernova, and the moon crumbles to dust. Mine until the entire universe is reduced to atoms. And even when there’s nothing left of existence but mere echoes, my soul will reach out from the void to find yours.”
“I’m not afraid of your demons. I can’t wait to set them free.”
“Love? That’s too bland to describe what’s in my heart. You’re my North Star, my guiding light, my entire purpose. I’m obsessed, addicted, compelled to worship at your feet, if only to sate the hunger inside me only you can quell.”
“You’re all I ever think about. You’re all I ever want. You’re in my lungs, under my skin, in all four chambers of my heart. You’re the blood running through my fucking veins.”
I’d burn down the entire city to see the flames reflecting in your beautiful green eyes.
