I read about the language of the stars, and you creep into my mind.

Before I can understand what my body is doing, warmth spreads throughout my form.

Humming, tingling, floating.

My eyes drift shut, lids containing worlds beneath them.  The world which I enter holds a version of you that desires me.

This you, sighs when my hand rests upon your face, rush of air pushed from your lungs which you were not even aware you had collected.

This you missed me as much as the deepest part of my soul missed you.  In this world I am mad for you, and you for me.

I touch your face and you press it against my palm.

When our lips meet, it is for the first time, and oh ! how exquisite they feel! How warm and soft and right.

We have been apart too long and our bodies tell us so. 

I fall into you and happily, you to me, otherwise I fear we may have toppled over.

But the meeting of our lips was nothing like the meeting of our thighs.

Our hands diving to deep, wet, musky spaces, fingers splaying and pressing and touching and exploring.

How have we never known one another this way ?  This is certainly what bliss feels like.

At once light, floating, grounded, separate, whole, present.

Our fingers are travelers now, explorers.  They delve into spaces I have only dreamt about in the dark corners of my wanting. 

Here they are merged with you, seeking out the secrets of your flesh, your soul.  Wanting to know you deeply, wholly.

My arm wraps itself about your waist and cups your thigh, pulling you to me, begging you to let me go deeper, know you longer.

I feel your body shudder, arch itself impossibly further into me, and I know your secret.  I reached inside of you and was granted access to your soul.

It is upon these walls that your secret is written.  My fingers memorize every word, before they reluctantly make their journey home.

I open my eyes.

Only a fantasy. Single tear slips from my eye.  I remember why the gates to my heart are so securely shut.

I turn my attention back to the stars. Too many nights end this way.

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