being around him was different than being around
any other guys id been around before
it felt new when his hands grazed my skin
like he needed fulfillment as much as I did
although not just IN a sexual completion
but a meaningful, intimate one
even if that night would have been our last
in my mind I replayed his lips creating art upon my body
the way he lifted me like I was as light as a feather
the way his tongue danced with mine,
as though I was needed, wanted, and more
I traced the art he placed on my skin
and touched my lips;
I could feel the repetitive sensation of his lips meeting mine
the smell of his cologne indulging my senses
I pictured us again
lying there half naked
my body cold but his warm
his fingertips exploring the tip of my head to very below
as mine remained tangled in his hair
rain pattered against his car roof, and I was dazed
caught in a dream
with a dream boy
every dream ends
and some die;
ours did
I guess the good guys have too
