I wish my skin was soft enough to justify my insatiable need to be touched
I bathe in sandalwood to keep you all over me. I beg for your weight, giving your limbs permission to crush my limbs without having to settle for dreams of phantom bodies on top of me. I ache. To be kissed. Fingertips, matches on my skin. Your touch, sage to my negative mind.
I’ve been resurrected. I dance on walls, and forbidden fruit hangs in haunted bedrooms. Will I ever be a fantasy or will I wake up sweating, clinging to my own sheets?