My desire for you morphed from want to need a long time ago.
My ache for you is held by this liquid divide that separates us. I often find myself drunk on lust for you, a heady combination of deep desire and pure frustration.
I want you ripped from my mind and placed before me. I delve into the possibility of me traveling this vast aqueous abyss and presenting myself to you in the flesh.
What would your first move be?
Just today I found myself submerged in thoughts of a first kiss, our mutual lust being quenched by reality. Would we be nervous, giddy like teenagers at the possibility of what was ahead? Awkward fumbling, our dueling arrogance subdued by our desires finally being met?
Or would it be much like I imagine it; a moment of quiet realization before we unleash ourselves on each other? A frozen still, when our eyes meet and everything we’ve fantasized and talked about comes into full bloom, flesh to flesh.
Days slip by, the distance only heightening the heat you’ve stoked in my body and in my mind. My need to run my hands and mouth over every inch of your skin, to press my naked body fully against yours, to cloak every part of you in my fiery lust. To taste all of you, to offer you every part of me. To have you spent and sleeping gently beside me, your frame wrapping warmth firmly around mine.
I want you closer.
I need you so much closer.