Lips against my own… what would that feel like?

I dream of such an experience, him bringing me softly into a cautious, gentle, warm kiss that I would devour and then conquer. He would moan and grip onto my shoulders, yet I would be merciless, and continue to try and steal his soul through those darkly colored guardians that had once mocked my wishes. No longer did they mock me, now they begged for me, yielding to my own lips as he himself gave into my wishes.

Sadly, it is only a dream.

A body against my own… what would that feel like?

My flesh is tempted with such secret desires. Every breath I take is panted and groaned in the darkest hours of the night. Behind closed doors, when not another soul listens, I close my eyes and think of his touch. Would his fingers brush caressingly over my skin, a barely there touch that I would feel like a fire in my soul? As I caress myself as I would believe he would, I can hear his sweet, innocent voice in my ears.

Sadly, it is only a nightly fantasy.

Another love cloaking me… would I be welcomed?

Could I hide in another arms, pretend that the world does not mean me harm? Would his arms circle me slowly, whispering sweet nothings into my ears that would burn into my heart? It is what holds me together when I face a danger that could end me…again. Hardly another soul touches through my hard outer core into where I continue to bleed and scream. Somehow, he has came through to where I need him in my arms, holding him and him holding me.

Sadly, it is only a comforting thought.

Had he been mine…

I would have held him so close to my heart, not another would have been able to take him from me. He would have been my lover, my companion, my greatest ally. I would have been his ruler, his slave, his guardian, if only he had wished for it. Only us together for as long as our hearts beat and our souls drifted. We would have been inseparable, just because I would have refused to his leave from my side. I would have spoiled him until he did not remember the meaning of work, nor the meaning of neglect.

Sadly, it will never come to be.

Had he not been his…

I would be the one kissing those beautifully curved lips that beg for my own lips. His body would be subject to only my touches, in which I would do to him often; touch, that is. His heart, I would own, and my heart would rest carefully in his hands. He would be mine… if he were not his.