I try to imagine a story.
A story of you and me in each other's arms.
I can't write it.
I can barely imagine it.
My mind takes off at a gallop,
And the images crash over me.
My fingers can't move fast enough to write down all the things I'm thinking.
In a riot of thought I imagine a thousand ways I want to touch you,
The thousand ways I want you to touch me.
I cannot think, I cannot focus.
I drown in images of you.
I am lost.
Only when you are in my arms will I be able to focus.
When you can feel my heart thundering in my chest.
When I can feel your heart racing.
When my fingers are finally able to explore
What I have only dreamed about.
Only when I can taste the flavour of your lips
and feel the vibration of you moaning into my mouth.
When I can feel your fingers digging into my skin.
When I can taste your throat.
When I nuzzle into your neck
And feel you bite my shoulder in growing excitement.
Only when I feel you slick and arching under my fingers.
When I hear the sounds you make.
The sounds I cause you to make.
When I finally taste what I have touched and teased.
Only when you are lying sated in my arms
Will I finally begin to think clearly.
Then I will finally be able to write the tale.
When I know the story will no longer be a tale
But a telling of things true.