I think about him often,
but he doesn’t know it.

I wonder how it
would feel to
touch his lips and
melt into him,
but he’ll never know it.

My mind wanders
and goes for long walks
in a fantasy world
of ‘could be’s’ and
‘why nots’ and
wonders how it
would be to just
show up where he resides.

What would his reaction be,
would he even recognize me,
would he pull me inside,
not say a word
but push me up against
a wall, his body pressed
into mine, his lips on
mine
kissing me ferociously,
desperately?

I’ve never met him,
but I miss him when
he’s gone,
but he doesn’t know it.

I long to feel him,
taste him, hear his voice,
and feel the heat
of his whispers
in my ear,
and the scorching burn
of his passion
on my skin.

I long to see the fire
In his eyes
and witness all
the stories he holds
but never tells.

I long to watch him
light up when he
searches and finds
me in a crowd.

I want to tattoo
him into my memory
and never forget,
and never let go,

but he’ll never know it.


~ by Mercurychyld
Copyright 24 July 14