Days without you in them are barely days at all. Almost doomed to repeat and stagnant for I want every kiss in the morning with you and every cuddle good night. I want to be your countertop lunchtime hug and mid afternoon on my knees snack. I want you to see a ping from me, and I’m not wearing anything but lipstick.
Do you think about me the way I do you? Do I haunt your every step? Are your daydreams filled with memories? My voice low on the phone then crescendos of ‘fuck fuck ohhh fuck yes baby I’m so fucking wet and filthy for you’ before a reduction of whimpers and sighs and purrs of contentment.
When I say ‘I want you’, it’s because I mean it. In every sense of the word. I want your heated lusty looks. I want your lips on mine. I want to be the one you see behind closed eyes. I want my taste on your tongue. I want your thoughts and wicked sense of humor. I want you to sing to me even if neither of us can carry a tune. I want long conversations about anything and everything and nothing at all. I want you.
I’m laying here in my bed right now. I’m thinking about you. Writing about you. And this writing becomes like a journal for damned lovers. Me with my self-loathing and OCD and throaty throes of passion. Fire curling between my thighs and the corners of my lips. You with your quick wit and intelligent insights and filthy mind. Life-giving breathes of fresh air filling my lungs.
Days without you are barely days at all but the nights are so much longer.
tara caribou | ©️2018
*please remember, this work has nothing to do with or about or towards the blogger mentioned, simply that I used their blog name/title/tagline as a writing prompt.
Thanks S.K. Here’s #mygifttoyou
I really enjoy reading anything you put out. Lately, of course, it’s been the story of “me and x” which is so fantastical and wonderful and I am always carried far away in a dream-like state as I follow along. Perfectly penned every time. ~tara