I am not sorry for wanting you;
I am sorry for being quiet about it.

I crave your soft caress--
Outlining the valleys and hills
       on my supple skin.

I crave your hands and fingertips--
Intertwined in mine.

I crave your kisses--
You give upon my forehead,
when I'm half asleep in a dream of you.

I crave your breath--
As you breathe in mine.

There is no greater love
Then a love that was meant to be.