I need to be kissed by someone who knows how. A kiss even softer than the hands that moved the strap off her shoulder. I will not say no to your hands. There is an unconditional longing for the luring ******* of love. Affections bats it’s eyes and a pulse of electricity climbs up your spine. Sleep in me, around me, with me. We are all museums of longings. We each have gardens growing in our chest, all of us waiting for the rain to teach us how to love. Like we once waited in the living rooms for our fathers to teach us how to dance. Like waiting for a book to mysteriously fall off the shelf as we pass by in hopes that there is another world out there where there is no small talk. We hope that they are real. We would like to miss them. Some people are like a long walk home and I like to think of myself this way. Some days I feel like smoke leaving a flame or a rooftop standing under a full moon. There are days I am sure that I am sailing in full wind and others where I am more of a loose string hanging from your jacket. Sometimes I feel things so strongly and in these times I wonder if it is possible to think someone into existence. Suddenly, I feel the night shaking it’s head and perhaps it is time to get some rest. I could wander through my own mind forever but it is, in fact, the most tiring thing I find myself actively doing on a daily basis.