Steal my records

I am ready, let's get it right this time. Color inside my lines, not outside of them. Grab me from my shoulders and pull me into, so close your col you skin pressed mine leaving marks of desperation and fulfillment. I want to feel your chest align with my hips, and you slowly press the small of my back. I will curve at the touch of you, leaving your hand with pressure. We are dancing, with our lack of words and spoken language of our body rummage. This silly game we play of guessing who. But this time, once again I am left guessing you, guessing your feelings. Feelings of wonder, fear and feelings of my heart close to yours, and how you lost the sense of knowing when the puzzle pieces fit. You have became blind to passion. I used to do this silent shuffle dance, in the moment. But now my mind floats hoping to see a word bubble above your head telling me this will happen again, because again can't come soon enough to me. If I had my ways, I would do this dance with you in a ball room full of spectators. So they could see our flow and melody, and believe me when I tell them no one created anybody as much as they created you for this. The curve of your body, baby. The sweet scent of your clothes as they lay on my floor is what I think about when I lie awake knowing its time to get my day on. My eyes haven't opened yet, so you could be next to me. Naked, stripped of feeling, care. Just simplicity that our bodies dance, closer then before the night before. You would touch my neck this time and pull it close to your red lips, to cure that loneliness you had for that minute. In hope in would be cured forever. But you know it won't happen. But the openness of the possibility, keeps me back every time. The build up in my head is unbearable in my sweet bed. I don't hear a breath and I know you aren't next to me. No clothes on my floor. Just wants and needs by a little girl, so naive. - me