You brush against me gently          
A hint of what you need,
Our bodies feel inspired
By the passions that we heed.

Your eyes, they cross me softly
Bringing chills upon my spine
For just to feel you touch me
Is a feeling one of a  kind.

So, sweep your hands across me
Your finger tips on my skin,
Plant your hands within my soul
Bury your love deep within.

Make love to me all through the night
And when the night shall end
Hold me in your arms so tight
Never letting go again.

your fingertips glide across my skin;
tracing the curve of my back and
all the faults that reside thereof.

scars,
dimples,
birthmarks,
s t r e t c h marks.

these little imperfections
appear to be not just here,
but everywhere
on my godforsaken body.
they are all so uniquely diverse,
yet i find myself loathing
each and every one of them.

your touch sends
a sudden shiver racing down my spine,
as if a wire were tied around it,
sending electric waves throughout my body.

i can feel the goosebumps forming,
and the familiar chill that comes with them.
they spread [across my body] like wildfire,
making them a contradiction.

my pulse quickens,
and i find myself feeling restless.
as the night goes on,
i cannot help but give in
to the terribly obscene thoughts
that i have for you.

when you touched me
even the slightest trace of your hand on my arm
something was happening deep in my core
your simple embrace illuminated my heart
i had the tingling sensation of love
i would give anything to feel your heart on mine
i crave your touch
i became addicted to the feeling you gave me
only then did i feel connected to you

Sometimes I can feel
The inability to
Breathe without your touch

Don’t you dare look at me as if you know me when I can’t even put my own finger on who I am or what I want.  And don’t you ever call yourself my friend until I’ve showed you the scars buried under my skin.  You can’t call yourself a lover until you’ve touched more than that very thing. And as I touch my body today it hurts, the bruises underneath my skin, they hurt. Pains that most people will never see. And I’m not talking some ******* metaphor it literally ******* hurts and I don’t understand what I did to deserve this, as I only banged my arm against the kitchen sink and everything else I could find three times. Exactly one, two, three times, each. And as I sit here in front of this old computer I look across the room at a once lovers best friend laughing as there probably isn’t a care in his wonderland he refuses to leave.
And when I think of you I remember your sad eyes always looking inward, pointed towards yourself, were strangely fixated on me and your soft lips were as flushed as your cheeks. You were looking at me not in some romantic way that you maybe wanted to kiss me; no I was pretty sure you were plotting our escape. I don’t know why you ever wanted to take me with you but you had that strange idea wrapped around your delusional little mind, going a little mad the only place I ran was towards you.  And as I wandered around in your house I got a little lost and I don’t think I ever was brave enough to leave you and come back home.

You're in my head. You're in my veins. When I get hurt I'm thinking of you and your hands and the way you shake your hair and the way you furrow your eyebrows.
I told you if I ever broke again I'd call you;
but what if it's three in the morning and I'm alone in a parking lot and I'm broken because I'm thinking of you. I picture you getting in your car with concern all over your face as you grip the steering wheel. And I don't know what you'd be thinking about on your way. But as I'm sitting on the cheap upholstery of my driver's seat,  with mascara waterfalls and stinging eyes, I'm wondering if I made the right choice.
And I realize just how big the world is tonight and how insignificant I am. And of all the people in the world; it's you I'm broken over.
I know just how crazy it seems to try to get over you in the dead of winter when my hands are frozen and how am I to get over you when you won't let me go?