A Name for the Want

Let’s put a name to what we dare not say,
a word for how your eyes refuse to stray.
My breath catches beneath your stare
deep, untamed, and unaware.

You hold me there without a touch,
and somehow that becomes too much.
The air between us turns to flame;
my pulse beats wildly with your name.

I cross the dark to where you stand,
desire trembling in my hand.
I reach for what is not yet mine,
but ache to cross that fragile line.

To touch. To feel. To lose control.
To press against you, skin to soul.
My fingertips begin to roam;
your body draws me closer home.

One moment melts into a few,
each one beginning still with you.
We cling as if the night might end,
then lose ourselves and start again.

I trace your shape beneath my hand
each curve, each scar, each inked command.
I learn the strength your body keeps,
the places where your breathing leaps.

I memorize each rise and seam,
in case the dawn dissolves the dream.
In case the morning steals away
the truths our bodies dared to say.

But I know I did not dream your grip,
the heat of your hand upon my hip.
It crossed each border, slow and sure,
until no boundary could endure.

Your breath lay warm against my throat;
my name escaped you like a note.
My body arched to answer yours,
as wanting opened all its doors.

We strained to close the final space,
lost in the hunger we embraced.
Then darkness shattered into light,
and every spark consumed the night.

Breathless, trembling, you held me
adrift upon our ecstasy.
And when your eyes found mine once more,
I knew what all this longing was for.

So let’s put a name to what became
too fierce for silence, fear, or shame.
The story ends where it first came
inside your stare, beneath my name.