I yearn for the day I stand before you,

and you me,

each denied no more of the other’s love.


The day I finally find myself able

to cup your delightful cheek

in my caressing palm.


The day your hair, fixed adorably as it is,

hangs a rogue strand

inviting a tender stroke behind your ear.


The day my desiring lips

can lean to yours in a welcome embrace,

arousing sweet fantasies come to life.


The day my cool fingertips

glide down the small of your back,

intimately drawing you toward me.


The day our hearts betray logic

to become our heart,

our home.


The day our eyes refuse to break contact,

as I say the words

my mouth was born to say to only you,


“I could swear I dreamed you,

appearing as you do now.

So much so that, in this moment,

I hope never to wake.”


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