Love comes knocking at my door at 4 am.
Love tells me that it misses us.
Love caresses my fragile bones, holds me tightly, and prays that I stay whole long enough for Love to say, “ We can do this real quick..”
Love doesn’t see us working out.
Love doesn’t want to be held back.
Love, will come knocking at my door at 4 am.
Love, you are not aloud between these sheets. To be within this threshold, so please don’t try to read over me. Don’t try to make a fingerprint trail on my skin.
Or pull me close to you where the smell of the memories are so clear.
Love, please don’t try. I’m being serious, I mean it this time.