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The Proof of My Love
Is in the way you make me feel
This is Proof of My Love
Our love has always been operational, dear Asha, and it will continue to breathe and pound like a machine.
I never want to offend you; I know this affair is delicate, but I want to move to a nice suburb with you and sometimes get us a suite for a weekend getaway.
You make me shiver when you love me like you do, and luckily there’s no auditor making sure we’re doing it like we should.
We’re quite opposite in many ways — I only love you — and you make it known that you love many a man.
But let’s embark on a new journey, haul ass like a runner along the busy streets.
Yes, it’s true, sometimes I twitch with desire for you and with each passing day my youth is in decline, but there’s nothing I’ve read in the literature that suggests we can’t keep going.
Sometimes you like to tie me to a pole and watch me squirm.
Yet in my soul there is a redundancy where pleasure and pain cancel out.
I consider myself an original and hate to be compared to the other men who find you out.
If you step on a nail, I will be there to heal you with my monstrous magic.
