Trying Invane

(typed last night and just cut to here this morning)

I miss being in your embrace. To try and keep that thought from my mind is like trying to keep a bee from its nectar. Futile.

To try and keep the thought of the way the touch of your hand upon my skin felt is like trying to keep a drunk away from a wine bottle. Impossible when he can remember the warm feel of it sliding down his throat as it encircles its way to his stomach.

Trying to keep the sound of your voice from echoing in my ear is like trying to keep a kitten from its mother. Preposterous as it remembers the warmth and delight that sound accompanied.

Trying to keep the taste of your lips out of my senses is like trying to keep a child from an ice-cream stand. Vain, when they can remember the way the ice-cream tantalized there taste buds as it slid past their lips.

Trying to keep me from wanting you is like trying to keep the Northern Geese from migrating. Useless when the desire is burned upon their consciousness.

Tell me why I have allowed myself to be reduced to this. Tell me why I’m biting my lip at the thought of you. Tell me why you pass through my thoughts. Tell me why I am sitting in black bra, panties, and necklace typing this about you.

It’s simple.

I miss you.

I want you.

Badly.