Do not stumble so quietly into my heart I know not of thy presence. Rage! Rage into my soul without trepidation, without remorse, and without apology. Make thy presence known, and in so knowing, felt! Pulsing, pounding, blinding, deafening, all-consuming. For I say, nay, I scream, unto you it is not love if I do not feel it, if I do not breathe in it's arrival with ragged, pleasure-soaked gasps. Touch me to burn me!
Do not whisper I love you, scream it! Make it resound through my head in a pain-seeking bliss that I might hear it always, and doubt it never.
If you are to love me, do it, but do not tremble so in thy reach. Tremble, yes, heart upon heart, but not in thy resolve to lay thy heart alongside mine, for I shall surely feel your fear-soaked shudder and doubt all my eyes have witnessed through your profession. Strike swift, and strike true, for the future is only as strong as the actions which build it.
