Whisper too loud,
hide your songs,
owe her nothing but love,
walk in her heart,don’t run,
rekindle what blew off,
brush your teeth when she is coming,
your words to be fresh and clean,
curve every bluff into sense,
if you wish,give her thousands not cents,
she is used to late nights outs,that’s tradition,
skip meals,
write her a letter,
come home early not later,
take her on expensive mutura dates,
the one with thick creamy soup,
do everything in whispers,
too low not anyone to hear,
too loud to make her giggle.
Dark hands 