It burns, thinking of your fingers tracing lines across my skin. It's almost as if I can feel it for real, though we've never touched that way. The hairs on my arms stand up, chills run through me.
I imagine your lips on the back of my ear, me trying not to lean into you, craning my neck for more exposure. Your breath ruffles the baby hairs there.
It's building, the tension. I feel spread thin, just thinking on it. Wondering at it. What could be? What could happen?
Will there be hesitation? It's all so heightened now. My pulse quickens. My breath catches.
Nothings happened yet. Nothing.
Yet the feeling is still there. A phantom touch. An already established intimacy, built on words. Built on time. Built on...
Can I trust it? The burning? Will it last? I feel the weight, as if it's real. It lays on my heart, my mind, as if it's real weight.
And now we wait.
No comments:
Post a Comment