I’ve needed a dramatic rain soaked kiss 

On my lips, to water and revive the garden of romance that lives in my heart, ever since I can remember. 

Since the day I became a teenager.

Hands around my ears, the fingers splitting to hold my lobes.

I need the downpour on me and a lip on mine more than I need my lungs to expand and deflate like a red balloon.

Why oh why, must I make it my whole being to replicate and chase after romance?

Always consumed by the culture and the media of it, it could kill me.