I never regret being late somewhere because I spent a few extra minutes lying in bed with you. We don’t get those moments often. The two of us, lying in bed, naked, bodies intertwined from wild sleeping the night before. We do lie in bed and watch tv before falling asleep, but there’s something intimate about having you to myself in the darkness, your arm around me, with no interruptions. Unintentional passion. It is in those moments that I feel my heart speaking with yours the most. The closeness and stillness of our minds and bodies create an uninhibited soul connection that can’t be challenged. It is then that I know you’re mine and that I need not have any fears. These are the moments I live for.
Tag Archives: touch
Excuse Yourself From My Dreams…Please…Maybe….
It doesn’t help my getting over you when you waltz into my dreams so cavalier, making me live-out fantasies that I know will never come true. I am partially grateful for the few minutes that I was able to experience with you again, but the other part of me wishes you’d take it back. I’ve told you before that I’m extremely connected to my dreams and at times confuse whether they were conjured up by my subconscious or if they really happened. Now, I’m awake longing for you and giving myself a headache telling myself to stop. My dream was so realistic that I still recall the way you motioned for me to come sit on your lap and the way I smiled sweetly and skipped over to you. The way you lovingly stared into my eyes before speaking to me as if in a trance made my heart skip several beats. I can still feel the way you held me like you wanted to protect me from the world; like you thought I would leave you. Everything about that dream still lingers with my being so much that it makes me wonder if you felt it too. Did you have the same dream? Do you remember the way you looked into my eyes? Did you feel how soft my skin was when you touched me? Can you recall the way I looked when you asked me to come over to you? Do you miss me the way I miss you? Or am I just a silly girl still dreaming by herself?
Peace,
Tiaundra Elise