I want to learn how to write and not these dollar store verses that I scribble on looseleaf paper. I want them carved into fine vellum, inked with deep red hues of posh penmanship, and sealed with a wax emblem from my lips. I want these words to mean something to you, take them from rags to riches and adorn every detail of you. I want to sit in your pupils and watch as you read them and feel the parts that move you. I want to smooth out my shoddy cursive into ribbons of silk that flow thru you. I want to learn to write the things you want to read, words to make you fall in love with me.