The anxieties are there
about meaningless things
and the meanings behind them

Time is spent
wondering

What he's thinking?
What he's doing?
What he remembers
and holds on to?
If any?
If all?

Why he's with her?
If he thinks about me
like I think about him?
If he thinks about my touch
like I think about his?
If he yearns for me?
If he wants to ******* kiss
and all of me
again?

So many musings
driven by curiousity
by desire
by a muse,
in every sense of the word

Awakening something deep
within me
deeper than lust
deeper than longing

An intensity
that's intoxicating
addicting
terrifying

An insatiable hunger
to search and swim
within his soul
one touch,
one moment
at a time

Only felt
never acknowledged,
engulfed in secrecy
engulfed by secrecy

Drinking each other in
between nuanced subcontext
one moment
at at time

Setting each other on fire.