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Poem

Nothing is something I would rather do with him. 
Anything is also something I would rather do with him.
In those moments I’m so focused on him that the days rush by, not meandering in a gooey haze.
Everything is blending together now. The days and weeks. April is a wash.
I’ve been high a lot lately, but it’s mainly to pass the time.
 
I am so motivated to do nice things for him. To cook and clean and appreciate. 
It’s hard to do anything and not think of him.
I’ll grow and be productive without him. 
But I’ll wish he was by my side.
I can lay in bed and waste the day too.
But I’ll remember the feel of his skin against mine. And miss it. 
There’s no way out of my desire to be around him. To feel him.

Why can’t he allow that to happen; allow my compulsion?
Make this a pleasant experience?
God damn it. 
I don’t want reciprocity.
Just let me feel and explore.
I want more, don’t know how to do without.
His touch is electric, powers me forward, and I’ll go on for weeks.

Can’t imagine letting go now; I just want to grow now.
Let me touch you and get mine.

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