I am dying to touch you.
I am dying to read your skin like a blind man, with the tips of my fingers sliding over your naked body, as they take in the story of you. The nudity isn’t about sex. It’s about doing away with all the barriers between you and I and getting even closer than sex allows as we merge souls together. My touch will be the conduit through which we speak. The vastness of my emotions for you will be narrowed down to a fine point and, as I trace and caress, I imagine there will be invisible words emblazoned upon you by the fire that burns so sweetly. The words will shine brightly there and then fade into your skin and race to your heart and then you can know, finally and at long last, what the man touching you is feeling. If your breath is taken away, that’s okay. You took my breath away long ago. It feels like I am still holding it and waiting.
Waiting for just this moment, when I can finally lay there with you and read you with my touch.