Intimacy has been a stranger.

The loss I feel

spells out danger.

All of my censors

are in overdrive

causing my body

to shake and writhe.

I am in withdrawal

and I fear I may fall.

The object of my obsession

is the most beautiful man

that wears such sleek attire,

the one that holds my every desire.

I can feel your growing fire.

I need to own it.

I need to participate in it.

Fulfil my craving need.

Listen to my wailing body

and take heed.

The painful aching

and midnight shaking

has my sanity in compromise.

I watch you when you know not.

Even from afar you make me hot.

Do you ever notice me?

I wonder if you know

what effect you have on me,

and to what degree.

Never before have I experienced such yearning,

or such endless burning.

I mourn to touch you,

and to be touched too.

I toss and turn each night,

unable to turn off my mind’s sight.

I constantly see your face

and I remember wearing

black panties and lace.

As a result, your heart ran a hard race.

I made the decision

that I must have more,

so I sling back my hair

and walk out the door,

stopping just briefly

to let out a roar.