i want you.
you,
it is you that i want.
i no longer crave pleasure of my own flesh,
or sweet snacks in the middle of the night
not even my tired eyes crave sleep.
my one most painful and ardent craving is for you.

and i long for the breaking waves of the sea
because they remind me i have bones
that are as fragile as the white foam against rocks.

i remind myself of the pulsing of the earth
because it reminds me of my beating heart
that is yet to begin the apocalypse of my soul.

i think about your hair
and how your curls tangle on my fingers
as if none of them want to let go of one another.

your hands,
which bring me such satisfaction
just by the thought of them
and what mess they could turn me into
if you simply let them stay by me
along with the rest of you
and what a beautiful mess i would be.

She has already cried by 10am that morning, a little before work. Breathing, smiling heavily and pausing through a phone call.
Shortly, it would be adequate, fine. His voice would no longer be honeycomb to her, but it would be fine.
In that day when they walked everywhere there was an echo, an antediluvian thrill, all that feeling perished at once. It must have been written into her fingertips, expected in the arched shapes. Releasing back into the trail of sped up time positioning the pad of paper, lipstick tube and gungy pen upright and proper in the pocket.

I wish I could believe
I'm falling for the man from Pakistan.
The only one I'm falling for is you.

I wish that it was true
I love the girl that likes the things I write.
The only one I write about is you.

And all my words are falling out
My fingertips,
My cracking lips

Frostbite fingertips, chilly they are,
Far more appealing than the faraway stars.
That's why my eyes turn to you during winter night,
Your frostbite fingertips, caressing my cheek are light.

Just as dreams are for dreamers, love is for lovers,
And that passionate feeling around us hovers.
Others doubt, but the stars above know,
When compared to our passion, dim is their glow.

Your fingertips, cold on this snowy night,
Rejuvenate me and emblazon my life with light.
If hypothermia were to claim me now,
I hope others wouldn't long ponder how.

I'll lose myself in you any day of the year,
Even during winter, you resolve my fear.

I watched myself staring back inside your eyes
while your fingertips caressing mine to unify
I can hear your touch whispered "I love you"
and every grain on my skin responded "only you"

We're 7 thousand miles apart
But won't mind the distance
Since it's just a number.

You compose beautiful words
In a completely perfect sentence
In such a way as I read them,
I was able to touch
What they made me feel.

Those words that touched me
More than fingertips ever could,
Those lovely words
That can get the insides
Of my heart to dance.
(J.a.t.m)

I.
I need your lips on my lips.
I need your hands on my hands.
I need your skin on my skin.
I need to get tangled up in your love, baby;
I don't ever want to forget it.

II.
*******, I can't sleep
And I need you here next to me

III.
Your fingertips write the sweetest of poetry
Every time they touch my skin.

IV.
Letting myself love you
Has been the hardest
and easiest thing
I've ever done.

the sweet sound of your voice in the breeze
the musky scent of your cologne
the wrinkles in your cheeks when you smile
these memories engraved in my memory, my conscious brain
and so much more realistic than any vivid dream

your warmth and comfort under a dark sky  
your lips, oh hell, the beginning of a sweet, kind addiction
your hand held in mine, a physical connection separate from emotion
these comforts, my dreams, fulfilled by one sole human
and so wonderfully admirable

the butterflies captured inside of my stomach
the giggles after moments of affection and kind fighting
the fingertips tracing little crevasses of exposed skin
its this that left its mark, like a bruise
your fingerprints left each memory of us captive, hostage

in my sweet memories, these moments last
but in reality, they live more vividly