As I try and focus on my day, my thoughts keep drifting back to you.
I can’t say that I love you; and I can’t say that I don’t either.
My heart aches where you touched it, though briefly as it might have been.
I am haunted by you.
I think about your eyes, and how expressive they are; and I wonder how they will dilate or glaze over when you are in the throes of passion.
I think about your lips that are full with the bottom lip being fuller than the top one and I wonder how your lips will feel like kissing me as you make me yours.
I think about your hands. Those big, manly hands and I wonder how they will feel holding me close to you. Will they leave marks when you lose yourself to your desire or will they be soft making me crave their hardness?
I think about your voice and I want to hear each and every word you utter in that sexy, deep baritone of yours.
I think about your heart and I wonder how many have been able to curve a place in there for themselves; what did they do to you to possess such an honour? Or what were they like- to be granted the key to that place that very few get the privilege?
Will I be one among them?
Every time I hear your name…I am haunted!
Haunted by thoughts that can only be quenched and quieted if you start haunting me too.
And that is where my heart trembles the most; with worry and inadequacy. And I shrink inward, haunted by the thought that- maybe I am not haunted by you the way you seem to be haunting me.