Pressed against you, warm and wanted, pressure on that little part of my waist you like to toy with. I am yours to toy with, tortured in the sweetest way, contorted, calling out your name. I call you, the next day, kneeling by my bed, as if I’m praying. Approaching you, as if you are…

Last night was a blur, buried beneath blankets and the exhaustion of existence, I forgot myself, my function. I selfishly slept, without so much as a good night kiss, or a finished list of my daily duties. You know I’m devoted. Dangerously so, some would argue, but beds are devious things, pulling me in, with…

I’ve always been going in the same direction, but I have never known where I was going. I know there has to be something, someone, somewhere, that will let me rest, let me realise that I’m done exploring and expecting, but every time the planet dances with the sun, I get less and less sure…

When I wake up in warmth, I think about you. wrapped in your welcoming arms, their kindness, like a kiss, felt in a way I almost can’t describe. It feels insanely romantic, essential and expressive, luscious, in a language only we can understand. Your hands are always on my waist, in a way, hopeful, nostalgic…