It feels like tomorrow is a million miles away. I don't think I can make it until dawn. This yearning swallows me, and niggles me out of a stolen slumber. When I close my eyes, I see your face, your smile. I feel your softness next to me and right now is never soon enough to be in your arms. I fall into fitful, exhausted sleep and I dream of you. The scent of your perfume, your hair, teases my senses. I can feel you under me, on me, beside me, and I can hardly stand the images that follow without mercy... the sensation of your small, strong, velvety h
ands on my skin; the beckoning texture of your skin, the way that cord in your neck feels between my teeth, your breathing, your moans... the taste of you...white chocolate. I wander about the yard at 3 a.m., drawing the humid night air into my lungs and wishing it was laced with your scent. Wishing you would appear from the treeline and call to me in urgent whispers. I would run to you, escape through the darkness and lay you down upon the cool moss beneath a maple tree and love you until our bodies were limp with spent passion, weak with the intensity of our union.
Yesterday, I picked up the shirt you slept in and I held it to my face, breathing it in, hungry for you. I don't want to wash it. I don't want to forget. I don't want to stop or think or rationalize. I want only to exist with you in a vacuum, oblivious to the rest of the world, allowing the sweet, overwhelming tenderness to envelop us like all the clocks had stopped and time didn't matter anymore. I hear your voice and my heart leaps like an animal in my chest, aching; a stinging, joyous, bittersweet pain that I curse and embrace in the same breath like some beloved demon. And I am captive, unable to explain the quick power that has permeated my heart and my brain and my skin. I long to hold you...to whisper sweet somethings in your ear and feel your answering moan, the tightening of your arms around me, the feel of your fingers over my face and lips.
You, woman, are a drug that I cannot stop taking....a forbidden fruit which I would pluck again and again and pull into my mouth, with no regard for the rules of Eden, no thought for the punishment I might face when the mist rises. You, woman, have my heart in your hands...and I want you to squeeze it, press it to your chest as I do with yours, and let the tears come. And I will kiss them dry and pull you close enough so that our bodies merge, and we never have to feel alone again..
