Blogger does not censor, does it?

I want, I want:
To be able to hit send. But no matter, we will type anyway.
I want, I want (second time lucky?) to tell you what I want:
I want our tongues touching, our lips melting. Coming into each other. Hard, hard, fast. Falling fast has a primal fascination, don't you think? Fast, fast, through a starlit sky, burning, burning, gone. I want the opposite of what I want: for this fluttering, beating, breathing heart inside my chest to not calm the fuck down. Why should I want that? Why? I don't want. I reject calm. I want it to beat itself up, left right and centre. I want yours to wake up and join it. They talk across the gap between my breasts and across the space between us. No? Can't they? They can merge. I want, I want. Your arms around me, hard, tight, so tight, and your mouth on my neck, my collar bone, no.. your mouth on my mouth, our faces joined, my hands at the back of your neck, my fingertips in your hair, your hand ripping away anything that comes between us. I want, I want, for us to become one hot breathing panting sweating primal wild animal, uncaged, free, tied together, flying, falling, fast, fast, through a starlit sky, burning, burning, burning, gone.