Desire
How surreal it is to desire someone so much, someone you’ve hardly ever touched, someone you don’t even know really.
How nerve racking is every waking moment, and there’s no easing to the pain of the question if all that passion stayed in your dreams or if it’s really moving through your skin… that idea of honestly, please, touching him again.
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But that desire, the worst of it, is it’s not even passional, how warm would it be to have him embrace you, like that first and last time you actually questioned whether you were even close enough already to hug like that.
Should you have enjoyed it more? Was that even special, or is he socially like that? That’s the worst, actually, does he have a clue or can he take a hint?
Damn how much I want this, something, at least to know it’s not real how bad I want to listen to his voice, to know what his fingertips feel like. Damn how hard it is to want his attention this pathetically much.
I’ve written him enough to say this can’t be good.
