I wait for you
the way a body waits for heat
tense, starving
already imagining the shape of your hands
before they ever touch me.

Your absence is a pulse in my throat
a low, dangerous throb
that keeps me awake
wondering how your lips might feel
spelling my name against my skin.

Every night I picture you
your breath sliding down my neck,
your fingers tracing the quiet places
no one has ever learned to read
your mouth learning the rest of me
slowly, deliberately
as if my heart were a secret
you were born to unlock

And still I wait.
God, how I wait.
With desire wound tight in my chest,
with longing coiled low in my belly
with the kind of need
that turns loneliness into flame.

If you ever come
if you ever step out of the shadows
and into my wanting
know that I will meet you
with trembling devotion,
with the heat of every night
I imagined you beside me
touching me like you were meant to.

Until then,
I burn quietly for you
seduced by a dream
that feels more real
than anything I’ve ever held