A lustre burns between the layers of my skin
Gripping and yearning for something you instil in me
For your calloused hard working hands to touch deeper than just the surface
Your lambert eyes to burn into mine
For my body to be yours and yours mine,
Your voice mine and mine yours
For our fingers to be entwined even a thousand miles apart
I yearn for a love as beautiful as the purported dream I impose
To many you are real, to me you are the product of my illusion, manipulated evenly to what I know I want and yet unbeknownst to because fear was also a layer on my skin.
I crave the feeling I want but have never experienced and that I fear is a fantasy that will never come into fruition
A live vis-a-vis to the one I learn in the classical romances and poetries.
I ought to explore this craving and yet I lack the words to define it.