A blanket on your sofa. I can't sleep. Reaching out through the cold distance between your hand and mine. Turn the lights off so you can see me. The atoms of my body crave yours. Touch. Skin. Confused lips.

 

One thing leads to another.

 

One thigh needs another.

 

One hand on one thigh.

 

One hand on another.

 

When you touch me I can't get it out of my head.

 

You're writing stories on my skin and I don't ever want to start another chapter.