Miss Holly needs a
head-over-heels
down-on-bended-knee
kiss-on-the-hand
kind of love.
I want a
stiletto-heels-bent-over-a-chair-slap-on-the-ass
kind of love.
Mr. Wood gives her a
showing-up-on-her-doorstep
flowers-in-arms-serenading
I-wanna-hold-your-hand
kind of love.
Mr. O gives me a
showing-up-at-my-bedside-Astroglide-in-fist-moaning-I-wanna-fuck-you-like-an-animal
kind of love.
They have a
sanitized-ironed-sheets
fresh-first-thing-in-the-morning
perfect-hair-and-teeth
kind of love.
We have a
down-and-dirty-splooge-towel-first-thing-in-the-morning-bad-breath-tangled-hair
kind of love.
They long for a
riding-into-the-sunset
living-happily-ever-after
in-the-land-of-rolling-credits
kind of love.
We live for a
nothing-set-in-stone-embracing-our-passion-gyrating-into-the-land-of-to-be-continued
kind of love.
Miss Holly and Mr. Wood
can have their Old Testament of love...
You and I wrote the New Testament...
and it’s a revelation, baby.
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