Aching

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.