I want to touch her skin...
hold her hand and tangle it with my own...
braid her hair, I lack the talent to make a perfect one but I do not lack the feeling of wanting to do it.

I do not know her like an open book, do I?
calm like a night upon a mountain,
but wild inside as if she was raised in the jungle.
I know her like the sun knows the clouds, don't I?
how she exhale sighs like little moans. deep, crocking her lips when she smiles.
her grief and intimate moments gets us to relate.

I imagine, perhaps my imagination lacks creativity. but it never lacked heart.
I want to touch her in the most innocent way for a pervert.
I want to touch her to provoke her.
why? who knows.
but I want to touch her.