Being a romantic aroace is torturous. I yearn to long for someone.
The stolen glances, the brush of a hand as we pass each other, lingering in each other’s presence, magnets inextricably drawn to each other. Then those three little words, clawing at our throats, begging to be yelled on rooftops.
How subdued passions permeate every moment and its in betweens. The flitter of possibilities all too alluring behind our eyes. The lifetime of tenderness we see past this moment, a lifetime we could make manifest. The air; thick with the tension of a hunt ending, soft as a butterfly kiss.
Your mouth full of poems to me that you bite back, the emptiness in my stomach that will not be satisfied. No. The only thing I hunger for is feeling your heartbeat against my temple. How I would like to rest my head on you for ever. To see your jaw clench when another looks at me, to see a smile in your eyes when I enter a room. To be your solace. That would be enough.
BUT I GUESS THAT IS TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR HUH?
