I wonder if he thinks of me.
If the image of my smile-lit face
Brings him some kind of pleasure.
If when we touch, the memory lingers

I often wonder about him.
What his lips would feel like craving
my eager body, ready when hes willing,
Soaking up every ounce of joy i had to give.

I imagine that he thinks of us, on occasion
Finding all the sweet parts of me in unknown spaces - just our secret
Holding each other to an oath of only flesh.

I hope he learns how much i can endure.
How the initial sting melts into arrousal.
Light is lacking in the places id let him go.
It would be so satisfying to finally know.