Dear ghost,
I still want it. That desperate lips as it freezes so close to hers. That sweet aroma of mutual respect. The kiss that is more potent than the one that touches lips. That infatuation of a wandering fool. That warm hand placed on her face that desperately caresses your palm. That woes of blind cupid. That warm embrace that makes you forget how to breathe. That eyes that creates a bubbles of hazy dreams. Too outrageous, but the soul that meets in every world.
I want it. I want it. I want it.
Guess I am still a child who was bewitched by the fairytale she once read.
Your and yours till the end.