I'm thinking of the pond we watched from above, while the sun was disappearing behind the trees and lighting up the sky from underneath. The mist was rising up from still waters, save for the ripples you made as you tossed pebbles into the mirror below, and I could feel the heat from your body when we were just centimeters from each other.

Why couldn't I have just kissed you?

I want to feel his feather-soft fingertips grazing the curves of my body,
To reverently hold him in my arms beneath the pale moonlight,
To feel the heat of his skin on mine.
I yearn for the warm, insistent coaxing of his lips,
The sound of his whispering voice,
And the feeling of his breath tickling my ear.
I want tenderness in his beautiful eyes, his words, his touch.
I long for his capable arms, his easy smile, the masculine smell of his body.
I need gentleness within his insistence, desire within his need, compassion within his reckless abandon.
I don't want *** from him,
I want to make love.