The Idea Of You

It's a fairly complicated slice of heaven
Where I am yours and you are mine
Yet we have never met.
Deeply, I am enthralled by you
And amazingly, I'm not afraid.
This isn't some teenage love affair
Where both parties only want the thrills of flesh against flesh.
I want your sweet eyes to look at me with the light of adoration
and I want to see the darkness of lust burst within them.
I want to know your smile
and I want to feel your tears.
I am in love with your wit.
I am in love with your mind.
I wish I could hear you breathe.
I wish I could hear your laugh.
I am so damn in love with you
and yet we've never touched.
How can this be?
I swear I've felt you, in a raindrop on my skin
I swear I've closed my eyes and heard you
Whisper my name on a breeze
Someone once told you that you wrote suffering
in a warm manner.
Like you knew it so well that you could communicate it in better strands of words than anyone twice your age.
Your mouth is made to wind words into luxurious sentences that express your every thought, your every ideal.
And I picture it, often, against mine.
Soft, voluptuous, delicious.
I am...
so damn in love...with the idea
of YOU.