When I am alone,
I can almost feel you here, when I'm lonely for you,
and I want to be inside you,
it's oh so bittersweet.
I Can smell your hair, and your flesh
and vividly remember
every time we've touched.
And it's a physical recollection.
But you aren't here!
and I sweat and ache
and spin in my bed, impatiently waiting
to touch your hair,
and gaze in your eyes
holding your wrists down,
and you underneath me . . .
Your thighs against mine,
your breasts pressed against my chest,
and my mouth upon yours
and wanting it to last for eternity.
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