Today, I feel like confessing.
I love greeting cards with really cheesy messages.
I love flowers that do not have any fragrance.
I love occasionally tarting up my act.
I love the idea of belly-dancing.
I love certain kinks.
I love mint-flavoured gloss on my lips.
I love to leave imprints with crimson lipstick on nude-coloured paper.
I love to imagine clouds making love.
I love to suck sugar cubes.
I love at least one thing pierced.
I love ice-cubes.
I love nail-biting finishes.
I love nail bites.
I love beginnings that look like they will end.
I love endings...to begin again.
I love confessions.
Why?
They free me. They chain me. They leave me bare.
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