can i picture you naked?

this is what dreams are made of. this right here. your finger tips on the warm shower tile or the feeling of your toes on the hardwood floor. the flicker of that light bulb when you open the fridge (your mom had made shortbread cookies, their in there somewhere) and the smell of the christmas tree in the living room, its a pretty one this year but whats the point (there is no point). so whats a boy or girl to do? love like hunger, love like fire, love like my first mouthful of gasoline while your lips taste like froot loops. we could fuck, or not, it's not that important and tracing your spine with the tip of my nose is better then reverse-cowgirl in the kitchen anyways (i saw it in a movie once). your skin is the colour of my dreams and an arctic snowfall and if your freckles were words you'd speak with the utmost eloquence. i'm glad i can picture you naked because your shape deserves the attention.