Dear Lover,
I’ve always wanted you wild beneath my fingertips, desperately reaching to touch some part of me. I wanted you seeing you in me while I saw me in you. I wanted you screaming our song as your hand struck out and scratched your name into the sweetness of my thighs. I wanted us dated, stamped, and signed. I wanted us official. I wanted you naked and nude beneath me as I rode you. I wanted our trophy in its brass reward. I wanted you naked. I wanted you bare. I wanted you afraid not to have me here. I wanted you broken. I wanted you whole. I wanted your heart. I wanted your soul. I wanted you weak and shaking and unaware. I wanted your lips on my lips, your hands in my hair. I wanted your blood beneath my own pores. I wanted you mine. I wanted me yours.