Love is your palm commuting on my thighs,
halting to coax me desire more.
I desire no destination, convene me to mountains, skies
where roses are roasted like barbecues.
I have got other strings to our love bow,
to feed you high keys of sweet melodies
till your heart crawls out and glue with mine.
I am ready to string this love out
till our last pieces on earth dry.
Your love is like a string of pearl,
gathered from Romeo and Juliet's tomb,
where love bravely kissed death.
Can we string along to the skies and mountains?
I have hired a string player,
to play us our favorite tones
while we sit and chew fat with St Valentine.