Chugalug

I'd rather collect your words and your kisses than anything else in this world. Like folded paper stars in a clear glass bottle, the color of your affection brightens my every day. Sometimes I have to interpret your silence, and the effort tires me, the necessity saddens. But then there are those raucous rowdy outbursts, expressions of what I mean to you. These I swallow like sticky condensed milk, greedily savoring the unique taste of mutual satisfaction. I try not to ask for too much, but for me there's no such thing.