The depth of the nearest ocean seems to be shallow
compared to how you have ingrained yourself upon my soul.

The intensity of blue in the western mountain skies pale in the
glow I feel when you touch me.

Being in your arms, not unlike sitting along a peaceful stream
and in front of a roaring fire at the same time.

A calm in the quiet strength that holds me to you,
captured by the fire of the dominant animal held in check.

The feel of your hand softly on my neck transforming to a
fistful of hair grasped with control, bringing me to you.

It ignites the touch that makes me hunger so to please you.
My soul cries to give you more, to be more,
to learn more, to take more,
and to love you more.

Though far away, that hunger doesn't fade or shift.
It balks, it tries to find form in words, in images, in future dreams.
Patience has become my mantra.
Though not unlike one taken from home, I ache to return to you,
to your control, your words, your touch.

How is it that you have come to consume me?
I let you in, and there you hold me fast,
and you will soon hold me close.

Patience, I repeat.
I am yours.

Patience, I repeat.
I know, I belong to you.

Patience, I repeat.

I can feel it,
for you have touched
and captured my heart,
my mind,
my soul and my body.