Hurts.
Loves.
Wants.
Pitter patter indeed.
Such childish nonsense.
Such overwhelming need.
Hurry now, my love.
I've been preparing for such a long time.
So we can run away.
Pack our bags.
And run away.
To kiss you in the night.
To love you how I've dreamed of for years.
Pitter patter, my love.
The time is drawing near.
Drawing sketches of my wild flowers.
The ones in the vase in our brick loft.
Hurry now, dear one.
Times a'wastin.
Love.