I’m devoted to all things romantic. The presence of romance in my periphery doesn’t depend upon typical prospects, although the classical will do just fine too.
I look at the shape of the desert mountains drifting slowly as I whiz along the highway in my car… and I think about the curves of skin against skin when I’m tousled in bedsheets with another.
I put on certain items of clothing, or pass others along my life maneuvers in storefronts or print ads… only to catapult me into a state of abandon.
I remember the times young men would pen me poetry, love letters, artistic drawings or share photos/collages to show affections… fueling my allegiance while inciting my fire for years to come.
I peel back the tough exterior of a mango and begin to sink my mouth into the savory juices… suddenly envisioning ‘us’ laughing amongst the lapping ocean waves of Tulum after local indulgences.
I’m swinging, in the rain, reaching higher and higher with each push and arch of my back, with my head of wavy hair thrown wildly loose to the damp air… flooding giggles like the enduring jubilation of climax.
I buy the movie ticket and proceed to the darkness to find the best seat… when I feel how his arms would be touching mine, wondering when his buttery popcorn fingers might desire more.
I inhale the fragrance of flowers in a couture hotel vase, individually arranged for the private dining table, cut freshly from the meadow, or wrapped in paper from the market… counting the petals for “He loves me; He loves me not” while divining a future that has yet to unfold.
I see the feather rendered submissive to the winds… while conjuring the lightness at which he’ll pick me up to twirl my everything around the dance floor, taking me to new heights then and later.
I hear Sinatra, The National Parks, that untarnished C or F sharp note, the harp, a piano melody, acoustic guitar, especially rhythmic drumming, or Rez/Cowgirl to establish a resplendent mood… and the mere listening provokes a yearning for a convertible, a starry sky, a disheveled pair of hairstyles, and a pile of memories that won’t ever die.
The roller coaster picks up speed tumbling my adrenaline to maximum velocity… as easily as the tempo of my heartbeat flutters ferociously for all romantic leanings.
Being submersed in uninhibited vistas with wide open freedoms, drenched in earthy delights of ocean, forest, desert, sand, space afford me a fond obsession… and habituate my courtship inclinations.
He looks at me with his jet-black, Hershey’s chocolate, sky blue, or emerald green colored eyes, almost mocking my empowerment… yet undressing me with his sentiments as expertly as he may physically in reality.
This syntax safari spilled out of me to evoke a little more romantic lilt for your day. I aim to please and cross my fingers for a hearthrobbing crush I may have placed between us today.