A thought indecent
claims to know
the you that I miss most
the you I've not yet met
and long for
prematurely

I miss your skin a day too soon
a kiss before its taste
and so I catch myself falling inertly
in thought consumed
veins first
waiting, waiting
waiting for time to bloom the day when untouched skin
and unkissed lips take form and shape of all indecent thought exposed
lived amidst the tender sounds of rustling sheets
in the warmth and taste
of strangers
known