Will we ever stop loving?

I call you and you’ve changed your caller tune to mine, again… and you still say you don’t care?

Yet, all you ever ask is if I’ve forgotten you…

How could I ever? That would be like forgetting me. Forgetting what I hold most dearly — my happiest times, my most sensuous self — me in love with you.

Everyone seems to see that we’re meant for each other, while we play long elongated games, trying to prove that we can have options.

You know you want me and yet you act like you don’t… I know I want you and hide myself under sheets of self-doubt, for fear of rejection… all over again… It’s always going to be a yes and a no, a yes and no and a yes and a no… with you.

And yet, here you are again. Here is that time again, when you will be in my arms soon and all I can think about is you… Your voice, your heavy breath that always somehow manages to find itself to my super sensitive neck… You’re prickly stubble that leaves me bruised and super-content every single morning… You’re wonderful taut body, which leaves me feeling protected, empowered, submissive, dominative, and several such beautifully contradictory feelings all at once… Here am I in that moment again, where I wish it had always lasted, wishing that I could fall asleep around that familiar scent and wake up to your beautiful raspy ‘good mornings’…

I cannot get enough of you, and neither can you of me, so why are we still at this?