I feel ready to touch every part of your skin and feel it under mine. Feel your soft smooth skin, that I can trace with my fingers all around your body from places to please and to tease. To expose my body and open up just for you to reach down and hold onto the heart that I didn’t just throw into your path, waiting for you to pick up. To feel you under or over me, wherever you’d want to be. To feel you beside me, and in the scariest of nights, when I awake from the most powerful of nightmares, my hand would venture around the bed to meet yours. As if you could absorb my emotions, like how I wanted to absorb you. To feel your hand slither in mine, in public, when I feel the most vulnerable, because now behind the open doors the world can see me for who I am. But even though, my sweet stress juice of sweat would not be slippery enough for my heart to let you go. Ready for your touch.
I feel ready to smell every strong cologne you possess, to smell you waking up in the morning and know what shampoo you\'re rubbing into your hair, leaving no excuse for me to check up on you. To smell the body wash you scrub around your sculpture, that I smell from every inch of your skin. To smell the sprays you put on right before you go out, that I could smell from a mile away, just to realize it wasn’t you. The memory of your smell that I would remember in the strangest of places, but only when I’m missing you. The smell of your clothes I drape upon myself, ready to smell you around the house when your presence isn’t there. To smell every odor, every wretched part of air that would travel through my nose enough to make my face cringe up, but endure every scent just to smell more of you. To make your cologne my air freshener, that would fill my house and wave off when you’re coming so you wouldn’t smell the remnants of you drifting in my air. Ready for your scent.
I feel ready to hear your soothing voice fill up my ears. For your words to echo through my mind, for every opinion you give me to race through my brain to find a place to sit and sink into my skin. To heed your every request my ears hear because I want to be your everything. For you to hear my voice and remember it my memory, so that every moan, every groan, every sound I make would linger in your mind only to remind you of me, as it does me of you. To hear your every moan that would be enough for me to fulfill myself because your pleasure is all that I could please. To hear every word in every language be recited in your voice and never be bored with it. To record your voice as if a ringtone, for me to hear because your voice, like music to my ears, brings me not just comfort and joy but peace and safety. To hear your voice even when you yell and you’re upset because your voice is what I want, in all its pitches, and in all its tones. To hear every lesson in every textbook in your voice but never fall asleep because I want to hear from you. To hear your thoughts, cries, and joys only to never let a tear of sorrow stain your skin again. Ready for your voice.
I feel ready to see you. To see you for who you really are, to see all your secrets and your beliefs. To see what makes you into the person I love, and to see who made you into the person you’ve become. To see you past the persona you put up, behind the wall around your heart, but deep inside your mind and your heart. To see the reasons you love me, so I could show you the reasons I love you, which would never end as the list expands like the universe. To see every part of your skin wrapped around your body like a present I could never afford. More than that, I am ready to show you every part of my own, dreaded with hatred in my eyes. To let you see and expose myself, for everything you’d want from me, ready to give it up for you. To let you see every insecurity that poisons my mind into despising myself, and to let you see everything I could possibly be proud of. Letting you see me for me. Ready for your sight.
I am ready to taste you, taste the food you make, taste the food I make, taste every word that comes from your mouth, only to see how it would taste in my own. Taste every part of your skin, each with its own flavor. To taste you in all the ways no one else could, in all the ways no one else would, for no one shall except me again. To let me open for you and allow yourself to trail to wherever you want with your tongue and taste whatever your selective tastebuds longs for. Despite such, I am ready for my tongue to be all yours and give you pleasures that you could only dream of having as if my tongue is searching for your reason to stay. As if my tongue is becoming your reason to stay. To taste your neck, your chest, with the swirling of my tongue to mark my own territory as if we\'re animals, but animals of intimacy. Finally ready to taste your lips during every second of every day, for our tongues to delve deep into each other only for us to find fulfillment within. To taste your chapped lips, only for mine to be your chapstick. To taste your lower lip and pull it for it to come off and I could chew up and consume, only for it to grow back so I could do it all over again. To taste your lips in the darkest of days and brightest of nights, because it could be all I ever wanted, and be all I ever want. Ready for your taste.
Ready For Your Lips.
Lips. Lips that I could only dream of feeling. Lips that I wish I could find my way in the darkest of nights. Lips that I could hear from a mile away, leading me straight to you. Lips that I wish I could smell the blueberry chapstick on, only to taste that same sweet berry on my own. Lips that I’d want to be the last thing I taste every night, whilst your hands trace the skin on my face. Lips that I want almost as if I want them more than I want you. Lips that I would leave for no matter how much I wish to kiss them if that meant you’d stay. Lips then I would see every day, while mine would be sown together. Lips then that I would see with longing eyes, only to know my lips could never.
Lips I wish upon every star, but I would never know who wished upon mine.