Let me just write. Across infinities. Far into your soul and back. Let me just write my way into those places where words had trembled to explore, into the skin of order, and shake it apart. Let me write across your eyes and how they gleam of mystery, how the charm of their languor spins a malignant yarn. Let me write for long, for a time lengthy enough to equal the spell of the enticement. Let my words slowly gather power and pace and churn your bones in the dead of the night. Let my words be memory. Let them run down tingling your cheeks, let them untangle your fragrant curls, and hold them between alphabets, losing their way bewitched, bewildered. Let me just touch your skin in a way you’d feel mad. Let me write to confuse you, then to sweep you over with its beauty. Let me write to accomplish no love but to drool you over in the richness of the delirium, to tempt you into its incredulity. Let one million sentences accomplish what your eyes have. In one look, upon one call.
So let me just write. Across infinities. Far into your soul and back.