There are different kinds of desire, I think. The times when I want to sink into the depths of your skin, run my finger on it in mad circles, cling to the warmth of your body, hear your heart beat and count every single one of them—that is how I desire you in the flesh. Often.
Sometimes, I want to touch you with my words—written or spoken. I write about the things I want to tell you but I can’t. I tell you about the things that I can’t write about. There are always words floating in the air or on paper that belong to you.
And there are other times when I desire to haunt your mind, and affect you with my thoughts. When you would know without my saying that I am thinking of you. When my heart sinks when there’s a grey cloud over your head.
But there is another kind of desire that is never uttered by the touch of a hand—when I desire you more than words can explain or farther than my thoughts can reach. And you, my darling, will never hear about it because I cannot express it. It is like the chaos that is this note.