Sitting beneath the long arms of wanton vines sinuously stroking the air, I'm looking at your picture. You're far away, and yet, tucked beneath my sweating shirt, you lie curled around my heart.

I miss the flesh of you, the push of your skin, hot, wet with desire as it pushes against my hips.

The hot air breathes on my skin, imitating your breath as you gasp in release against my neck.

I love you. I cannot help myself, I am broken into you, crumbles of wanting.

Moments of weakness - no. Not moments. Aching hours of days, into nights.