how i long so much to be
the clothes that cling so selfishly to your skin
the skinny jeans and t-shirts that lay with your flesh
or the pillow that caresses your cheek
wishing you good morning and willing your nightmares away

i hate the house that contains you
it keeps you safe wrapped in its arms
watches you dress and undress each day
a shameless spy with the perfect view

i am also quite envious
of the warm water that glides down your form
slipping in and out of the crevices
of perfect skin
like a gentle waterfall of pleasure

what i would give
to be the books you finger so longingly
fully captivating your attention
feeling you tremble on each of their pages
And stare at them intensely

perhaps someday
i will become the mosquito on your wall
drinking you day in and day out
appreciating every flavor
until i eventually die in your palm

finally

satisfied