Hands empty

There is some music that seems more valid and plays upon a part of me that isn't as touched by some songs when I listen without earphones. I feel that same dynamic applies to you. In my mind, you are immense, you are perfection, you are that sweet, intensive voice wooing me into the dark, but the reality is that you are the presence that is fleeting, temporary, and resistant to discussing the stickier parts of a relationship. So with the earphones on I romanticize you, slowly sink back into old habits of waiting for you, pleading for you. Thinking of you without the earphones, I see the backlash I have withstood hoping for the paradise you promise. At the end, my hands empty.

I like your presence in my life. It creates this confidence in me and resilience that empowers me to follow my mind. When you fail to re-emerge, I feel that hollowness in the foundation of myself that hinders me. Its like a foundation that I can't build up because the of the missing pieces of you in my life to build on. I look for other pieces to fill in the gaps, to make me semi-complete but they don't fit. At the end, my hands empty.

All my life, I've searching in the dark (guy's pov)

Kissing on this campus of brick barriers, high enough to sit on, have some fun make-out sessions. Following her hand in hand to her building, anticipating how much further this could go in private. Maybe that's why I'm restricted to public kissing. Stopping in a shaded walkway, turns and locks lips with me. Finally. I feel I can take a full breath and enjoy it. Her mouth cold (from drinking soda) against my warm tongue, my tongue searches for the coolness, brushing over each millimeter, taking it in, claiming the territory. I want to have free roam over her body. I hook my fingers into a belt loop on jeans over each hip, pull up gently, she gets the hint, jumps up the ledge while my laced fingers follow her body. Momentarily off my lips, I dive for another stepping into the embrace of her knees, my face at chest level. Hunched above me, her hair shrouds us in moving shadows. I take advantage of this slight privacy. My hand roams to her neck right above the hollow of her collar bone, gently jerk her jaw up to nestle a couple kisses on her neck and back up to devour her mouth. I want more. I need more to keep me satisfied longer, hit that peak of calm, and claim a delight. Inhaling kisses as dependence for breath. Eyes closed, searching in the dark, trying to reconcile how much I need more than this. I need the total control to have what I crave. Hoping a kiss, the perfect kiss will convince and tear away your will and self-control, live in the abyss I create, not be able to help yourself but submit to me and my desires. So I kiss you as tenderly as I can, as aggressively as possible, and as deeply as you allow.

How long must I wait for you?