Inside me:
Half-crazed, I can think of little else
It burns a streak of red fury through my loins
I can feel your mouth on me, teasing me, urging me, seizing me
I can taste you with all of my lips and yet I can’t taste you enough.
Torture. Endless torture.
Dreaming is no longer for children
I dream every night, but no longer of unicorns. Are there degrees of impossibility?
There must be. I can see the path as vibrant as the desire bubbling up inside of me.
I dream. I hope. But more than this. I feel. You.
I feel you when my fingers prod. Taste you on my wine and water. Touch you in the final breath I take between wake and slumber and I know. I know now that this.
Is where forever is.