I think of your lips touching mine and my stomach flutters--tingles shoot through my body, and I feel light-headed with desire. I am lost on a sea without you here to touch me--to harbor me to your skin, to the warmth of your breath against my skin, to your lips anchoring me more deeply to the rhythm of your sex.
My body reaches out for you like the tide reaching for the moon--stretching further with each attempt--growing ever closer, ever more excited by your near-distance.
I am close to exploding.
Or perhaps, I have exploded, and this light-headedness is not desire but shells left on the beach in the aftermath of us.
It is you against my thoughts, full as if you were here.