It's late at night when I crave your touch, and to be in your arms again.
Your emerald eyes piercing through me, causing my heart to skip, like a young girl playing on the sidewalk.
Your chestnut hair, all wild and untamed as my frantic fingers pull and run through it.
The softness of your lips, O those lips,
as pink as the morning skies when the sun begins to rise once more. Your rough hands possess a gentle touch
as they travel up and down the sacred temple which you call my body. I crave the feeling that overtakes me as you hold me through the darkest of nights,
our bodies and limbs a tangled mess
with the bedsheets. Your breath on my neck, warm and reassuring as you press your body, tightly against mine.
Because it's nights like these where your touch is my remedy.