Starved of contact.
I am addicted to intimacy.
A sucker for those old songs,
the ones that mention the afterwards.
The melancholic song of goodbye.
The chaste ones will never feel it.
How smooth and sweet our love is.
I am in love with the action,
of bodies in all their forms,
Cocooning me from the world,
making me feel human.
I want your fingers to stroke my skin,
as we tumble in our ecstasy.
A solitary action that brings us closer,
making it so much harder to leave.
The build up of loneliness is so horrific.
I lie here and wish for all that peace again.
For now that I am missing it,
I finally see it’s grace.