our fifth month together and all i’ve given you for our anniversary is a revelation of my secret admirer and some of the passion in me.
my english boy. the english boy.
have i told you i always searched for that blonde, blue-eyed and tall perfection?
you’re not blonde and he’s not tall. but it’s you that got me sussed.
if this was a myth, you’d be poseidon reigning me in and he’d be a young soldier, soft features made of marzipan. i, i would be a siren, luring with words and laughter, light touch of my fingers on his a cheek, my toes dipping through the waters of your realm.
so now you know.
and he’s got a girlfriend : clever, but not as clever as me; irresistible but easy. and i’m not. well, not the latter.
so hand me his head on a platter.
i’ll serve him up a game that he can’t win.
i just wish you didn’t know.
his anonimity was something sacred, special. one song i left unsung. so i’ll confuse you, make you doubt all i’ve told you. one can never be too safe in grips of love. and my love for you has spilled over the bank. a scarlet flood.
still, i will be a spy in the house of love.
but as a siren.
and both of you will see me and breathe me in. now that you know each other, you will do so together.
and S will join you.
three’s company, two is none.