Kong
There is no way I can say this without hurting his feelings. His feelings are soaked in Kong. His feelings are loved in Kong. I gather from Kong's notes that I am beautiful to him. That I am lovely to him. I gather from Kong's notes that my delicate features mix with my wicked ones, and that above all I am loved so deeply.
He pretends to sleep next to me when I am awake in bed. He pretends to sleep with me when I am sleeping. Lots of him is what keeps me alive.
He likes to "slip me a little something" now and again. This "little something" needs only one word to describe it. Yellow.
Although I wear bandana's on my head to hide the imperfections of my cranium, he still manages to work his hands beneath the cloth to stimulate my development.
Maybe he thinks that I am automatically this way. That I am automatically great. It takes vast amounts of love to become so great. Vast amounts of love. And Kong is aware of how utterly and deeply I love him. That my love for him mirrors the love I hope to one day have for myself. The love I have for him is unique because it is one sided. I have never met him before.
He pretends to sleep next to me when I am awake in bed. He pretends to sleep with me when I am sleeping. Lots of him is what keeps me alive.
He likes to "slip me a little something" now and again. This "little something" needs only one word to describe it. Yellow.
Although I wear bandana's on my head to hide the imperfections of my cranium, he still manages to work his hands beneath the cloth to stimulate my development.
Maybe he thinks that I am automatically this way. That I am automatically great. It takes vast amounts of love to become so great. Vast amounts of love. And Kong is aware of how utterly and deeply I love him. That my love for him mirrors the love I hope to one day have for myself. The love I have for him is unique because it is one sided. I have never met him before.