“Your presence is poetic, mysterious and deep. If you don’t mind I’d like to read you; uncover the dirty secrets hidden within your pages and fill that missing space between your sheets.”

I get so lost in your midnight eyes I forget we’re running out of time.

Lost in the space between friend and lover. I am and none of these things.

I long for connection but speak only with your reflection.

I was on fire. You didn’t even hesitate stepping into the flames. After tonight I am certain all the neighbors know your name.

You want to taste my ruby lips but fear they’ll leave a mark. Loving you is trespassing, forbidden access to an insecure heart.

You are the thunderstorm warning and I’m dancing in acid rain.

The night is wine and we’re the stars.

How can I be soft when tough love is all I ever known?

I’ve got the midnight blues in the middle of the afternoon – the side effects of missing you.

If love is rain ours is always pouring.

Everyone chases fairytales and magic until love becomes an illusion.

I dream about the body I wish I had and all the ways I could be touched in it.

If this love is going to break me, at least make my suffering sweet. I want to know what you taste like in sweltering summer heat.

If there’s still hope for the hopeless, there must be hope for us.

I imagine myself cold as ice falling into your open arms. Everyone says it’s beautiful where I am but I’d rather be where you are.

I write poetry in my sleep because you only visit me in my dreams.

Come then, put away your sword in its sheath, and let us two go up into my bed so that, lying together in the bed of love, we may then have faith and trust in each other.

Do not go to bed until you have gone over the day three times in your mind. What wrong did I do? What good did I accomplish? What did I forget to do?

Sometimes you climb out of bed in the morning and you think, I’m not going to make it, but you laugh inside – remembering all the times you’ve felt that way.

I don’t remember going to bed, but in the morning, there I was.

I don’t want to be viewed as a womaniser or whatever. I don’t like going crazy crazy, I like having fun but it’s nice to wake up in your own bed, isn’t it?

Early to bed and early to rise makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.

I cannot go to bed tonight without a word to you.

I will defend the importance of bedtime stories to my last gasp.