The Wanting

The light touch as fingers ignite small flutter ripples of excitement, of peace, up and down the spine. The soft lips barely touching the skin across bare shoulder blades. I melt with each light touch, wondering if there even was the touch or a kiss.

My soul fills and my body sings as you press your forehead against the back of my shoulder. I shudder as your arms surround my waist, pulling me closer to you.

It’s a place I long to be — to be touched — to be held — to be loved.

When I’m not here this is where I long to come back to.

This place, this feeling, this forever.

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