I yearn for him...

I yearn for his kiss...
As tender and playful as mine was passionate.

His touch...
Such an expert hands... Make me wonder how many women have his fingers run onto in almost seven years... What an amazing learning curve he'd had!

His hair...
So pleasantly groomed and smooth. Makes me weak.
Terrible thing to look at him and stand how my fingertips burn wanting to dive in there!...Terrible thing, indeed.

Just one thing in his anatomy petrified me: His eyes.
So dragging and overwhelming they are!
It's like they make me look at them. And the instant i do, all my will goes down the toilet. I can't think... At all... The moment i look i'm his, body and soul.
And there's no salvation.
Little i can do to avoid it, except gathering the little will i may have left and look away. Defeated.

And I bet he's aware of his power over me... And he may even enjoy it!
Because he can read through me. Because when my will is gone i'm like an open book.

OH MY!... I HATE PSICOLOGY

Oh my...

I have the strongest belief that hanging out with him can bring so much to my life!

But... What can i ever bring to his? Is there something...Anything he's lacking of that I can provide?

I can't think of anything, and my pesimistic self says there's nothing useful i can give in return to what i may get; at least nothing he may want.

I cannot use him that way.

It's not the way i am.