There is this raging, fiery passion that draws you to him.

That makes you want to climb him like a tree, nest on his lap, and never leave.

That calls to you, telling you that if you don’t eliminate the space between your bodies,

You will burst into flames.

And you just might;

Because your lips quiver for his,

You shiver when he whispers your name –

And you melt into a puddle when his fingers graze your skin.

You laugh every time he jokes, and you have to wonder if he really is funny.

Or are your ears just attuned to his sultry voice?

You giggle when he looks at you and laugh riotously when he calls to you.

You are aware of his heat approaching you,

Enveloping you,

Consuming you.

You want him,

More than you’ve ever wanted to breathe.

His scent tingles your nose in a sweet, tempting blend of heat and need.

It’s is not sexual.

It is not even love. Not yet.

It’s those magically beautiful moments before the sun breaks into the sky

It is a divine connection that demands to be completed.

That orders you to get next to him – as close as possible,

Because his arms awaken in you a wild, raging desire

Power

Craving

Fire.

And when he wraps you in them, you cry;

There is no stopping the stream of tears streaking your cheeks

Because for a moment, you touch heaven.  

For a moment, you are not 21, 35, 60, or 94

You are 14, and you are falling head over heels in love with his soul.

Image by Dayron Villaverde from Pixabay