I can see it happening, barrelling into my life like a freight train, a train I’ve ridden far too many times and jumped off far too many times to count.
I read you and I hear you and I feel you and I taste this pulling, dragging desire, bubbling up inside my chest, a hot pink thick soup of fear tinged with longing, cursing and calling as if all these oceans aren’t too far for you to hear me.
Every tiny word that sprouts from you is lightning in my veins, just a thrill please one more, I’ll take it if you want to give it.
I want it, all of it, all of you. I haven’t even touched your skin or heard your voice, but I know it in my bones that if you said so I would get on a boat tomorrow and sail into the moon just to eat ice cream with you and let it drip onto my body, you can lick it off and wash me with your tongue. It’s too much, I’m always too much, this feeling is too much, but it’s in me and you know I can’t push down lava, eventually it always explodes.
I can see this other me, this me that didn’t leave, this me that comes home, this me that feels the magnetism of another person more strongly than I can possibly explain, this me who wants just to try it, just to taste it, to feel all my senses alive in your bedroom.
But how can I say these words to you, you with all your strength. You could break me, shatter me into a million pieces, and do whatever you wanted. And the worst part is, I would let you.