You asked me what I'd do for you.

Edward Hopper - Hotel by a Railroad, 1952

You asked me what I'd do for you.

Turning my head away from the television,

I asked what you had just said,

Because BBC4 was on,

and it was on too loud for a tiny kitchen flat.

You said,

'What would you do for me?'

It was in relation to something we'd been talking about earlier.

You knew that,

But other people listening might not.

I told you,

"I would capture the moon in a sunrise,

the devil in disguise, 

I would write your name on the wind's breath,

and tear a hole through the sun-streaked sky.

I would see the world through a needle,

and creation in a tear,

I would hold you closest to my heart,

For you are my most dear.

I would ride with dragons through the heartland,

fight ancient kings in halls of stone,

slay demons where they stood, unearthed,

and still I'd never ride alone.

I'd mould waves to rip through mountains,

topple peaks from out the blue,

to crumble into the dust below,

this, I do, my love, for you."

You looked at me,

and asked if I'd wank off into an eggcup whilst you watched.

We managed to reach a compromise between the two.