In your arms,
I am aching.
Waiting to be kissed.
Cursed with a craving,
that sinks into my skin,
keeping me awake and aching,
waiting for the pacing monologue of my mind to subside.
I can barely hide it.
Inching closer and closer,
lips laced in red,
bringing your attention to my intentions.
I am aching.
Waiting to be kissed,
and then you kiss me,
possessing me completely,
for a few fevered seconds of relief,
before I’m aching again.
