lonely and... anxious.

I remember
the fortress of her body.
Warm bronze in the dark, the coolest heat to touch,
with the ocean sheet upon us calling me to cross the borders
and penetrate all of her with all of me.

I never felt freer then when I was moving with and into her.

I wish I could send her one of the kind of texts we used to. I miss letting her know what I'd do to her when she loved (or seemed to) the things I did to her. I miss making her legs shake, I miss making her anticipate, I miss fulfilling. I miss knowing that what she said to me after that first day we made love was true.

I need some connection.

---

I need a blow job.