Can you love me like you did
the first time we kissed
in that pressed against the wall,
breath stolen, full of surprise
kind of way, or is that why memory exists?
To tamp down sudden romantic gestures and
fits of fancy, remind you to proceed with caution
lest she break your heart or steal your soul while you sleep,
to build walls and keep her at bay – but did you
know tree-climbing was her favorite childhood sport
so your wall means nothing, she will try and scale it –
to protect yourself from her everything when
she might be your saving grace?
Can you love me like you did
the first time we kissed?
Then can you love me
all over again?
*photo credit: Leon Levinstein
The pieces of poetry on this blog and Write Bitches are works of fiction, erupting from my incredibly over-active imagination. And my unending love for all things romance.
Madhuri Writes Things 
Very nice.
Thanks so much.