Nothing soothes more than your soft gazes on a long tiring day. I would sit down on the couch, body exhausted from acting scenes and mind squeezed from intense studying. Shortly after, you with your fluffy ruffled hair would approach me with a sympathetic smile and your bright earthly eyes would send me afloat. Perhaps this is why to catch your eye is my favorite pastime, if only to repeatedly feel the relaxing sensation comparable to drinking hot coffee on a cold rainy day.
You are truly a performer for how you express with your body. Your hugs are heavenly but it’s your quirky gestures that give me a kick. It makes me giddy to know that these are rooted on our inside jokes and how much we spend time together. It gives me endless amusement when I see other people’s reactions, from confused stares to indulgent smiles, whenever we enter our own little world. The bronuzzles, the nicknames, the pokes, everything like sweets from my childhood that I still buy to this day, not only for the taste, but also for the nostalgia.
I wish you’d know how sensitive and responsive I’ve become to your touch. Each soft caress is electrifying, my spine tingles, goosebumps emerge, and I can almost feel my pupils contract. When you linger, I start to shudder from the onslaught of my body’s reactions. Then you’d be adorably concerned and ask if I’m feeling cold, but I’ll just laugh and say how it’s quite the opposite. A furnace is blazing inside me, burning constantly, fueling my hunger for contact, most especially whenever we lose ourselves to passion.
Pleasant warmth and promises of safety exist within your soft embrace. I present an image of strength and discipline, but I am vulnerable between your arms, for you’ll understand and hold me tighter. To embrace you is a different matter for I feel a deep urge to never let go, to shield you against your inner demons, your pain, and your fears. Yet you conquer these for you are firm and stubborn, then I’ll hold you closer and fill your cup with endless pride and affection. Open your arms and I’ll latch on as long as I can, savoring every second like well-aged wine.
The timbre of your voice is ingrained in my mind, always associated to happiness and affection. Dynamic and expressive, I would never tire of hearing you. We might as well be part of a musical with how often we break out into an unprompted song, no matter where we are and what we’re doing. I love it when we’re alone and nestled within the comforts of our bed, your voice goes low and deep while you talk of sweet nothings or sing cheesy tunes. I can’t help but fall harder, hanging on to every word and reveling in the atmosphere of serene intimacy, reminding me of the rich taste of dark chocolate engulfing the palate.
What I crave for most of all are your lips, soft against my own. Your kiss is a strong delicious cocktail, so intoxicating and oh so addicting. From sleepy languid kisses during the night to heated make-out sessions while pinned to the wall, I don’t mind getting drunk on each one. I would drink and drink and pull you as close as possible, eyes half-lidded and mind light-headed, I’ll lose myself and only feel our shared warmth. I hope you feel, I hope you taste, the concoction of desire, love, and contentedness I pour in every kiss, magnified by my hand either on your cheek, your hair, at the back of your neck, or your back.
Is it wrong to still pine even if you’re mine?
That I still yearn for your presence, deeply starving and unsated.
Sometimes I wonder, do you crave for me as much as I do you?
But then I remember your guttural growls whenever we kiss, how your eyes cloud over when we're alone together. I realize that it shouldn’t even be a question at all.