I have to have it. Even if it is just the delicate, fragile clasp of a pinky-swear, or the brazen claim of ownership of my leg thrown over yours in the still, small morning hours, or a casual fistful of your hair clasped contentedly as we watch tv or go to sleep. I have to be close to you, near you, within touching distance. The worst thing I can imagine is being anywhere that is away from you.
I know I am intense. I know I get clingy, that I overwhelm you with my neediness, that there are times when you wish for a little space. And those times, I try … I really do. I may sigh theatrically, loudly blowing errant locks of hair out of my face with pouty lips, but I want you to feel the same way about me — so I don’t push. I straighten my shoulders and endeavor to be a big girl; I busy myself with tasks, and focus on anything other than my separation from you.
But, in the end, we both know that I am counting those minutes until I can be in your arms again. — ispeakalchemy