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I love the taste of your name.

I love the fact that it’s a mixture of many things; sun, air, water, heat, hair, sweat, cold and humus. Your name tastes of laughter; of happiness and warmth, of love and lust, and of hunger and dreams and fantasies fulfilled. It tastes of life itself and every good thing therein, and every time it touches my tongue, your name leaves a picture of satisfaction boldly etched on the sensory canvas that is my brain.

Your name is a dopamine trigger, and I’m pretty much addicted to moving my index finger. Thankfully there’s no overdose. It is a cure for all ailments, and saying it over and over again makes my nerves twitch with pleasure so intense that I almost feel guilty about not sharing it with the world. But i can’t share, and I’m not sorry. Let the world seek and find its own nirvana, as your name is my personal fix and I’m happy with hoarding the stash. It is a secret dungeon to which only I have the key, a hidden playground where the rides have only a single seat.

They say “what’s in a name” and I answer “bliss”. I know they won’t understand, and I’m selfish enough not to explain.

I love the taste of your name, and I’m going to keep chewing on it for as long as I can, even if fate in her quirky way has ordered that our paths never cross.

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