The type of my love is raw and pure! It is certainly the type God intended—to procreate and just make sure traces of our DNA would remain until the dinosaurs come back once again to purge and hunt us down for nature's payback.

My love just wants you to put it to use. Appreciate all the curves of me, all the scars, each strands of my hair and all my plumps. My love wants you to get a hold of me and don't let go, never let go, let me lay down and offer everything I have for you, like how God intended to.

I have to admit I didn't pray that much to have the privilege of bringing God into this conversation, but God damn it I just need a scapegoat, holy scapegoat, to say that my heaven needs you back. They needed you home.

And you'd probably sighing over how hyperbolic this reads, or rolling your eyes over how exaggerated this is, or facepalming over how horny I sound, but it's true. As it leaks, it leaks for you.

Now who to blame when I could only stare at your arms to satiate the unmet needs of my little love nerve? I just wanted love, baby, I just wanted love.