I’m tired of having the whole bed to myself. I want to be able to say, “this is my side of the bed”, and reach over to feel the flesh of one that I love on her side of the bed. I want to experience the flutter caused by her tender kiss against my cheek, or a subtle brush of her hand against mine, mostly sub-consciously just her needing to reassure herself that I’m still there…without realising that I need the reassurance more than she does. 

I want to be able to walk into the room and sneak up on her from behind, so that when she realises that I’m there, without a word, or a need to look at me, she leans gently into me, dips her head to the side and exposes the tender glow of her neck waiting impatiently for the caress of my lips. The feel of her silky hair against my face, with the lingering scent of her shampoo laced with the delicate scent of her natural oils. 

Subtle hints of her perfume bearing out the final moments of a day well spent, leaving her with a unique scent that can only be hers…a primal beauty that mesmerises me. I want to see the warmth in her eyes that disguises the uncertainty of life but still musters enough passion and depth to leave me enchanted. I want to feel the arch of her back when my arms wrap around her, while her feet dance instinctively in the air when I lift her off the ground. 

I want to feel the tension in her shoulders dissolve just by running my fingertips over them, tracing her beauty down her arms and nestling her hands in mine, interlocking my fingers with hers, feeling the hint of a hesitant squeeze as she allows herself to indulge in the moment without ever submitting completely. But that hint of surrender is all I need, never total surrender, because then, she would be needy, and she would cease to be intriguing.

The passion she has kindled in her chest for so long will never allow her to surrender completely. It is that same passion that has unseated my sanity.