I knew her inside out like an addictive YouTube video. Intimacy meant 5 Mbps and a great date was a call that didn’t drop. When I kissed her, she saw emoticons. I adored it when she was around. But that only meant she was online.

One day we made love…This was our morning after. 

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Hey baby… For the first time in a long long time, I find myself at a loss. Words fail me …and yet, I stir myself to write a few to you. For I have few other means to tell you how I feel.

Last night, we played. We teased. We did ‘silly’. At some point, perhaps you or I or both contemplated behaving ourselves, but what pleasure would that have wrought?

Pleasure. I would be lying if I said the mere thought of you did not make me smile widely. I crave to be possessive of what little I know of you. For while I have neither asked you to be mine or pretended you are mine, I dream unashamedly of just that. When you follow up a quizzical Hello? on your phone with a agonizingly familiar Heyyyyy upon recognition, my heart lurches in anticipation of the next word you will utter. Even if it is the oft repeated Hmmmm. It tickles me in perhaps a very juvenile fashion, that when I smile at you… you smile back.

I could watch you smoke a cigarette all day long, my concern for your lungs temporarily relegated – just for a glimpse of that mojo that bedecks you in your nicotine haze … it’s in the way you move your hands, the way you scratch your chin, the way you talk. I will confess that I also find it mighty entertaining. When you tell me a story about yourself and are lost in the windmills of your mind, I watch with wonder at the tilt of your head, the shrug of your shoulders… and a part of me just wants to keep you talking. Selfish as it may be.

I know we did something last night that was unexpected. I don’t believe I have been possessed by such a need to see and be seen in some time.  In a pixelated haze, discovering the lines of your leg, the curve of your shoulder, the slope of your breasts and the piquant temptation of what was hidden… unravelled me. I will not lie, there are parts of me that want to ravish you … and yet, there is a greater almost poignant want to be close to you, stare into your eyes, kiss you gently and whisper promises of …I am not entirely sure what… as a few delicately placed cotton orange polka dots separate my gaze and touch from your bare self.

I can’t want you enough. I can’t get close enough. If I had it any other way, you would be mine already.  You should know this.