I want to kiss your finger tips.
I want to push my hand under your shirt,
And I want you to know that it isn't sexual,
That I just want to feel your skin against my own.
I want to brush your hair back,
I want to look deeply into your eyes.
I want a sappy poetic love story,
But you don't exist.
I want to kiss your neck,
And I want to hold your hips close to mine,
But I don't want it to go further than that.
I want to touch you,
And to be touched by you,
But I don't want to have sex with you.
Because I just need to feel your skin and the muscles beneath them,
And the bones beneath those muscles.
That would give me comfort,
To feel your heart beating in your chest.
I want to love you,
I want to hold you,
I want a sappy love story,
But touch today means sex,
And sappy love stories don't exist.
