dangergirl

Channeling the memory of you vivid, yet incomplete. I know the frame of your body, the shape of your shoulders and the way your clothes drape your figure. I know the lines of your face and the way your lips compress together in that long lost look of silliness, but I do not know yet their taste. I know the soft skin on the nape of your neck, but brief passings have only left me wanting to know your scent; long, thin fingers on shapely hands, but I do not know their touch.
I do not know the way you move in sync with another to the thump of a bass line in a song. I do not know where your mind ventures in the night or in the day, but I want to go along for the ride.
I do know the agony of wanting to reach out and take you, and holding back. My only rational thought is, Too soon just wait.