Turn off the record. I want to feel every sensation.
Light headed; filled with candy floss.
Drinking never eating.
Living out every bohemian cliché.
Woody Allen, cafes, pasta and rice.

Unwrapped onto the bed I’m your exhibit.
A plinth made of fabric and a candlelight spotlight.
I am vulnerable to your flickering eyes.
Doubtful of your fast moving lips.

I’ve fallen in love so many times I can re-enact the entire process.
Smiles to kisses, flinches to spasms.
I wish it could just hit me like summer rain.
An uncontrollable urge; a fist in the air.

Laughing at tragic events
Documenting every thought.

Entertaining the idea of a successful marriage.

To give that soiled wedding dress a purpose.