Seating aside, picturing me and you laying in bed, getting lost into each other's eyes; me and you just learning each other's tides, gently peeling our layers.
I'm here yearning the texture of your touch; the sound of your laughter rippling through my ears, the taste of your tongue in my mouth.
I've been wondering how warm is your kiss.
I feel that certain rawness of an infatuated soul. Getting truly involved requires vulnerability. I've been drunk of you.
In my brain I save vivid portraits of your expressions, mannerisms, your ways of being you. I think about you floating around your world, riding your bike through rails, walking up the hills, talking to your peeps, focused in your classes. I wonder what color shirt you're wearing, how does your jeans seats into your legs and hips, what kind of shoes are hugging your feet.
30 more hours until I duck dive into your arms.
