His Story (Part 3)
Closer now, my head is filled with your fragrance, and I am drunk on the scent of your hair, the touch of your skin, and that look in your eyes.
At last, after far too long apart, I can almost taste your lips, but then you whisper something, and, like an elusive bird, that kiss is whisked away.
Anxious to savor what I have only dreamed, I am taken aback by the sudden turn of your head, but I can’t forget the desire I saw in your eyes just a moment ago.
If I have learned only one thing from months teased by separation, it has been patience, so I squeeze your hand and whisper your name, and then I say, “Show me the ocean.”