Analysis of Fingertips

I miss your fingertips on my skin. Random chats haulted from your stolen kisses.  I miss your lips, the gaze you would show me just across the room. A lot have attempted, yet nobody could ever make me feel like you. Been sitting idle killing time, waiting on the day you return. The longer it goes the slower my time clock moves, as it’s only YOU that I yearn. I miss your fingertips on my skin. Laying in the bed, staring in your eyes and you confirming I’m more then a quick fix. Intimate moments where you show vulnerability, forehead kisses of endearment. I miss your lips. Soft and subtle, yet very dominant when it comes to me. You are an addiction one can’t control, naturally, trembling as time apart feels like the epitome of my demise. At night I lay down solo and fantasize, more Like reminiscing. The day you float back to me I promise won’t be a hit and miss. I’m locked in, solely in love with you. Poetry… an outlet for moments, truths and clear views. Step inside of how my mind works. Feenin for you bad, but patient enough not to force. Still givin me butterflies even when we don’t speak. Remorse. I miss the intensity of erotica when your fingertips crawl along side of me . Come rescue me from silent agony, only curable from affection from you. Many try n fail, they don’t make me brew like you. I bet reading this has your mind like damn. Metaphors erupting in a plateau of imagination. I miss your fingertips exploring my  secret spaces, ones only ignited by you. Until the universe allows our paths to cross again..I’ll continue to imagine. I miss your fingertips on my skin. Come kiss me like you will never see me again, this time I’ll win as letting you go..can never happen again. For you, runs a deep passion…I gotta have it