It is almost as if I could manifest the image of you from the thought alone. As if I could reach out and touch you. I feel the desire, passion, and the romance. I feel the craving of my heart. The lust for you drives the need for more. I am not quenched to merely know you exist, but to finally reach out and have you in my arms. You are someone my lips are drawn to, my eyes fixate on and speak for me –screaming the words of my heart in my silent stare. My hands feel in the darkness as if you body is the light that guides me. Your smell is my drug and the more I breathe you in, the more it takes to satisfy the urge for you. I want you now. Sitting here, so quiet, I envision you laying there, looking over at me, I know what you think. The desperation in your eyes says it all. I smile; knowing I could never say no to that look, to your essence, to how fucking hot you laying there is in my mind. Yes, you are there –so close. Yet, I am empty of you. I do not have you in my arms, but in my heart. For now, I am the creator of your image until you finally stand before me, this is what I imagine. One day, we have what we crave –each other. And I will know you as you know me, without words.