I’ll love you passionately. I’ll constantly crave your skin in my mouth and your taste on my teeth and your sweat on my tongue. I’ll become addicted to your weight and victim to your movements and will chase the fleeting levels of pleasure only your body can send me. I will unzip my reservations and remove my insecurities and give you every curved and smooth and tattooed piece of me.
I’ll love you intellectually. I’ll constantly crave your envisioned thoughts and your tactful words and your decisive beliefs. I’ll genuinely question and intently listen and silently trace the patterns of your seductive mind. I’ll spill my deepest cognizance into your ears and fill you with every deep and thoughtful and studied part of me.
I’ll love you secretly. I’ll constantly crave your stolen glances and your flirtatious smirks and your fleeting frame. I’ll keep words of desire and need and want and commitment safely tucked behind a yearning tongue and lusting lips. With words like “friendship” or “acquaintance” or “dating” I’ll hide every fallen and faithful and vulnerable part of me.
I’ll love you gradually. I’ll constantly crave a safe distance and crippled time and a policed speed. I’ll hold onto the edge with whitened knuckles and refuse to look down and avoid tasting the adrenaline of a free fall most crave. With timelines and plans I’ll coral every spontaneous and careless and unapologetically brave part of me.
I’ll love you confidently. I’ll constantly crave chances to capture a moment or relive a memory or post a stolen kiss. I’ll keep my head up when my fingers are woven in yours and your side is by mine and your protective hand is on the small of my back. With stifled doubts and buried hesitation I’ll flaunt every convinced and dependable and trusting part of me.
I’ll love you comfortably. I’ll constantly crave the blanket of your arms and the pillow of your chest and the security of the couch on a Friday night. I’ll erase the foundation that makeup my defenses and sink into silent events and quiet weekends and effortless mornings. With softening routines and reliable evenings I’ll discover every domestic and stable and accountable part of me.
I’ll love you fearfully. I’ll constantly crave an escape route and an open door and an emergency exit. I’ll dissect your actions and disassemble your words and create elaborately painful endings to a story that has yet to begun. With panic vibrating my veins and survival drowning my eyes I’ll destroy every hopeful and romantic and optimistic part of me.
I’ll love you, hopefully. 
