You might vomit blood after reading this entry but frankly my dear, I don’t give a damning damn.
I don’t know where to start. Yodeling sounds of impurity. My fizz and effete is no longer in grasp. Magical insanity has sets its ostentatious smile, but not me. I am still draining, impeding nocturnal mortal, waiting for hell morphing to heavenly.
“What’s about virginity?” asked your sanctimonious heart. Why is it so mighty imperative? Now don’t get too obtuse. I am a practicing Muslim, only my view is a bit way liberal. I’m not encoring adultery here. So you better read circumspectly and not run, as assumptions are the mother of all fucked up. I’m writing this piece of blasé, not for you, my honourable blog friends. It's for me, entrain declarations for my prospect adore.
To you, my future wife, I don’t care should virginity is no longer in your conception. I will face it with brawn, like a brass forager belching on the capitalist arm. I love you, and I will ask for your hands, for who you are, not for what times of yore have impacted you, force majure or not.
To you, the sovereign winds of my cosmos, no, I won't blame you should life did not consecrate us with a smile of the little one, because you are the baby in my heart. Empiric persona of pure sparkler. Sanctify me with your boundless love, and I will surrender all the things I have in this world.
"And i love you because all the entire universe conspired to help me find you" - The Alchemist
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