It’s just my insecurities talking. But everything we’ve done, everything I’ve done because you made me feel comfortable enough to do it… it doesn’t make me feel any better. In person, you’ll see all of me, what I really look like. I am so flawed. There are but so many flaws a person can accept.
I am afraid you’ll regret anything you’ve done with me or for me if we meet. I am afraid you’ll think of me as this… thing. Not a human but just a thing who no one would think is beautiful or fall in love with or have sex with or anything else because I am not that kind of girl.
I am afraid you’ll believe what the monster inside me believes.
Lonely in the dead of night, my whole body aches your touch. Vulnerable when the stars come out, the image of your protective arms around me, holding me close repeat in my yearning mind.
Physically none, only in the heart but can lucidly feel your whole body on mine. When you cannot sleep and I sing serendipity, you rest your head on my chest. Your hair tickles my chin. Your arms underneath me. And your eyes closed and calm. This is what I dream.
Sex… This is what I dream
Your voice rumbles deep with bliss. Your lips kiss with delicacy. Your hands roam with pleasure. This is what I dream.
This is what I want. This is what I need. This is what I dream.