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,