When I'm placed on the spot my thoughts are simplistic searching for words in a empty well. Child like and premature, like the gentle whooshing of the wind before a tornado. I'm a natural disaster, and most beautiful women undoubtedly seal my tongue. I go dumb. The more intrigued your appeal makes me feel, the less I reveal. My intellect goes carnal, wild, untamed and every thought becomes verifiably lame, with no foundation in which to stand. You are woman and I am man, but still, its so complicated to just relay it with proper words. I prefer you as you are, delighting my three senses ,anticipating the two, touch and taste, hoping to exclaim, you'll one day take my name. Your the goal for my soul my Zouj.
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