the first time we kissed you tasted like bread.
You still do. Have I told you that? My lover is made of bread.
the first time we loved one another's bodies, you thought I was some angel.
even you,
you put me on a pedestol, this angelic heavenly unattainable thing you doubted would stoop to your level. how wrong you were though. I was not. You are just crazy that's all.
you could not believe I was yours. and you read it in my eyes, I've been yours, I've always been yours, your juliet, your wife,
you are such a fool.
you marveled at this body you'd loved for so long and never seen and I did too. we were each other's onlys.

and when we did it we did it for hours and hours and nothing was left uncaressed, it was the lovemaking of angels in the sea.
it still is.
I still cry when we do it.
I cannot help it.
and so my heart beats like morse code in his hands, and he shall keep it forever.
I am no angel, no goddess, I don't know why you think these things, but if I was,
I would come down from heaven every night and share my celestial body
with your bread-tasting mortal one.