There are days in which my fingers tingle
With the need to run them through your hair,
And days in which my eyes are slippery
And fall time after time into your path.
How can I answer when you ask why I smile
When the answer is I’m holding myself down
Because I fear my lips will unzip themselves
And run away in search of your skin?
You may not know, but your body surely does
And my, what a sweet cruel thing it is,
The way it wraps that cord around my chest
And swathes my senses in your earthy smell,
Until reality is a distant and intruding buzz.
It’s such a heady, mystifying torture,
Touching you so often, body against body,
But knowing that it just defeats the purpose,
That my fingertips can only justify the feel
When my mind’s forbidden to acknowledge you.
If only once, before we cross that threshold,
You’d let the gesture be for it’s own sake,
And let me breathe you in on an unending sigh,
Let my skin soak in the indents of your hands…
If you could only feel this spiral of yearning,
Understand this want that verges on need.
But fear not, my darling, I’m still holding on
The tightened leash to my own greedy fingers,
With the hope you’ll let me release it one day.

4 thoughts on “Yearning

    1. That is really lovely of you to say, thank you so much. For me, honesty is the most important element of writing, especially poetry, so your comment is heart-warming. I’m glad you enjoyed 🙂


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